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chapter title: Jason Todd and his muse
chapter summary: "But one should be realistic." He murmurs, the sound caressed by the wind.
"Hope is realistic, Jason."
It is not. And Jason knew that better than anyone.
tags and warnings: fluff, original character appearance ( Serena - who has been described), slight angst towards the end, a lot about themes of hope. Big bro Dick Grayson, Sibling shenanigans, Also Red Hood painting (please let me know if you guys could visualize it !) And Angsty Angst (But it's pretty minimal compared to the next chapter), mentions of trafficking, drugs, gangs and domestic violence (nothing major)
author's note: Huge thanks to @batwngs for proof reading!!! Also to preface, I’m not an artist. A lot of this is a combination of little research and my imagination ! would love to know your thoughts on this chapter. Reblogs and comments appreciated.
word count: 6794
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Warm sunlight paints the wooden floor in patterns of light due to the fluttering of the yellow linen curtains, dust light dancing around the air in swirls akin to that of a ballet dancer spotlighted on the Vinyl Marley floors. It was early morning and Jason was already at the studio. You had him change into Red Hood's costume, while you set up the backdrop.
Silks of red sit against the wall while a bunch of teddy bears sat in one corner. The background was just for your point of reference. The silk red would turn into the red brick stacked against each to form the wall of crime alley and the teddy bears — each separated from one another at a distance would lie on one side of Jason, would represent the children of crime alley.
All Jason had to do was lean against the red silk, arms folded and one leg over the other while looking ahead. The twist of the door knob signals Jason's return from the changing room, clad in the familiar creation of yours.
He still looked handso — Nope, we are not going there right now.
"Can you wear these on your back?" you ask, handing over the pair of angel wings — one cut and sprinkled with red from it's stem. It was a lot heavier than you had expected as they were made out of resin, with small flecks of bronze caressing its edges.
Jason knew today was the day he would be cosplaying as himself. To say the least, he was curious how you were going to portray him. He was no angel like Bruce or an inspiration like Barbara.
He was nothing really.
Nothing angelic enough to even hold one of the celestial plume.
He loops his arms over the straps regardless. You were kneeling down, trying to spread the silk uniformly against the wooden floor. You wore a brown apron, cinched tightly at the waist, a little faded from multiple washes over the months. Jason could tell you hadn't slept the previous night, if the dark bags under your gorgeous eyes acted as any proof.
The tiny studio was already ready for his presence early in the morning with the pallette of red paint stacked near a wooden easel that held the rectangular white canvas painted in a layer of red mud, positioned horizontally. Printouts of the photos you had taken of him yesterday was now pinned to the corkboard replacing Stephanie's. There were other pictures pinned along with his to form a collage such as those of crime alley, a movie still of kids running, and the same pair of angel wings.
"Okay, so let me just tell you a brief run through of what I have planned for the portrait."
Jason should really listen, but how can he if you looked like that. It looked like the sun was your personal stylist, it's rays highlighting every tiny detail across your face while your eyes gleamed with zeal. Your hands are turning, twisting as you explain the way you were going to draw him — yet Jason didn't hear a word.
Instead in the small enclosed four-walled room of the art studio, Jason becomes the artist and you, his muse, as he tries committing every part of you to memory. He was not artistic like you, but as a lover of words, Jason had the most beautiful combination of letters associated to you, to your very being.
Safe to say, Jason was falling for you just as easily as the moon falls for the sun.
He just hoped you would fall for him too.
A very fickle thing, since he likes to tell himself he doesn't believe in hope.
"Jason, are you listening?" The only reason you felt he wasn't, was because of how still he stood. Maybe without the domino mask, you would have been able to see green eyes locked on to you for the past five minutes just like you had been caught twice before.
His arms rubs the sensitive skin riddled with goosebumps at the back of his neck, red blooming across his body like hibiscus sprouting to life. Fortunately for him, you were not able to witness his pathetic flustering akin to that of a teenage boy who had seen his crush look at him for the first time.
"Sorry, was just thinking about something." He murmurs, his eyes darting to the red silk because that was so much easier than telling you how he found his home in your eyes.
"Are the wings too heavy ? Are you unco—?" you ask trying to find any reason that could be bothering him.
"No, they're perfectly fine." Jason says quickly, his ears turning pink as he realizes he just interrupted you out of his own fluster.
There's a brief silence that wraps around both of you — not awkward, just there — before your voice cut's through the silence.
"Let me go through it again." Jason nods, intent on listening to you this time and not getting lost in the beauty that was you.
"The red silk ," you say pointing at the fabric, "Will be the red brick walls of crime alley. I need you to lean against it such that one wing is fluttering high."
Jason nods.
"The teddy bears you see placed at a distance from each other," The fur feels soft against your skin as you position the teddy bears better against the floor. "They will be the children of Crime Alley running."
You point towards the stumped side of his wings,"The other side, there will be a dark shadow cast. I know it's kind of confusing, but you will see what I mean once we start. Do you have any suggestions?"
Jason might have had something to say if he listened, but he was lost again.
Just this time in his thoughts — a never ending cycle. Jason loves his family more than they will ever know. But sometimes it made him forget about all the good he ever did just because he did not do it the 'right' way. Jason was no way as good as Bruce Wayne but he saved others too.
He was a protector. A savior to many living in Crime Alley. How many kids had he saved from the ever impeding doom of being involved in drugs and gangs? How many women had he helped move out of unsafe homes and from trafficking rings? Even news outlets never spoke much about his work in Crime Alley — the positives at least.
To have a total stranger think of him in such a way was rather surprising and heartwarming.
"No, I-I think it's perfect."
You smile, lips stretched wide as you start maneuvering around to make this feel as comfortable as it can be for one. There is a tiny speaker at one corner of the room that you deliberately brought from your dorm. It had become a small tradition — creating a playlist before you started working on a painting— in the last four years. But since you were working with a muse, you opted for something that would make him feel more comfortable.
"Shall we start?" you ask Jason, though already pulling him by his arm towards the backdrop. Anyone could tell you were excited — the sparkling eyes, wide smile, bouncing foot from foot and for one, you wouldn't have had the confidence to drag Jason by his arms. But if you had looked behind, you would have seen him smiling wide.
He'd love to be dragged anywhere, if it was with you.
Turning towards him, you place your arms on top of his shoulders, voice firm, "If you need to take any breaks or feel uncomfortable, just let me know. We can take a pause anytime. So please voice it out at the very moment."
"Yes, sweetheart."
The words leave his mouth before his brain can even process. Both of you turn statuesque, sculpted by the shared beating of your heart, like muses waiting to be painting.
"Sorry, if that—" Jason says, hands twitching at his sides.
"No, No. It's fine , I mean — Let's j-just get back to work."
You turn your back to him, hoping he wouldn't notice the way you took deep breaths, trying to calm your beating heart or the silly grin on your face.
In a few minutes, Jason was leaning against the silk, arms crossed and his right leg over his left. He looked glorious like that of a royal knight, guarding his kingdom.
Like that of Red Hood guarding Crime Alley.
You stand beside him to fix the angel wing that was slightly tilted. As the soft feather bristles against your fingertips, you could feel his eyes on you. A shiver runs through your spine at the close proximity, butterflies zooming in your stomach. You take a deep breath to calm yourself down only for his heavy scent to course through your body, heat washing over you like waves.
Stay professional, the words ring in your head.
But how could you in the presence of someone like him.
Taking a step back from him, you take a final look at the entire scene ahead of you , rechecking if everything was in it's right position.
"Would it be okay if I played some music?" you ask Jason, fiddling around with the speaker.
"Go ahead," his voice a little muffled as he fixes his shirt.
"Do you want to play any specific Genre? Artists?"
"Not really, I'm fine with anything."
The soft melody of "Futile Devices" by Sufjan Stevens waft through the room, caressing every object in it's way. You had chosen the instrumental version as it provided you with enough concentration to not focus too much on the lyrics.
Sitting behind the easel on the wooden chair, you prep the canvas, coating it with another layer of red. A tiny circular wooden table rests next to you, a black cylindrical pen stand holding clean brushes of varying widths. Your thumb curves itself into thumbhole of the wooden color pallette, covered in pints of red, black, white and other colors formed as a result of the combination of the primary colors.
You start by making streaks of light grey, outlining his silhouette at the center of the canvas. Leaning closer to the canvas, you switch the brush for a thinner one to outline his features and proportions. Shifting against the cushion of the chair, you simultaneously paint a brief outline of the bricks in the background to make sure nothing was being miscalculated or else you would have to redo the whole painting again.
Jason can see your eyes flickering to his form regularly as well as to the pictures pinned on to the cork board, orbs squinting in focus over the borders of the canvas. There was a slight streak of red on the stretch of your cheeks when you had rubbed the back of your hand mindlessly against your face.
He could see the way your eyes narrow in concentration, leaning closer to the canvas while your body was almost off the chair. He noticed the way you would hum along to the instrumentals, your mouth whispering some of the lyrics that would have accompanied the music. He noticed the way you stretched your arms, groaning at the slight strain in the muscles from holding them in one position for too long.
And he noticed, he was falling fast. Very fast.
It had been two hours and you had finished till his shoulders, along with the red brick walls of Crime Alley. Deciding it was the apt time to take a well deserved break, you stretch your arms above your head, swaying side to side. That's when you notice, the way Jason stood too still.
Some if not most of your muses could sit without moving, but they were human too, shifting a little here and there that caused minuscule changes in the position of their arms or legs.
But Jason, he just stood still like he had been replaced by a statue dressed in Red Hood's costume.
"Let's take a break."
Jason finally moves, walking towards the the small rectangular table in the corner, housing two chairs. You wash your hands and bring a bowl of potato chips and two energy bars. Handing one over, you plop down to the plush of the chair with a sigh.
"How did you stay so still, Jason, for like two hours."
Honestly, the only reason Jason could stand motionlessly was because the subject of his concentration was you. He could look at you for hours, untouched by the outside world — almost like the world blurred around him when you were there.
"Daydreaming about my books," he answers instead.
"Oh, which book?" you ask, taking another bite of the protein bar.
"Frankenstein."
"Oh my god! Have you seen the movie?" your hands clasp together. "It was so fucking beautiful. Even the costumes, especially the blue gown Mia Goth wore. "
Jason hadn't watched the film. He wanted too but knowing how the words would translate to real life people on a screen would hit far too close to home and he did not have the courage to watch it just yet.
He hums regardless.
"Shall we continue?"
Throughout the next hour, you had painted till his waist, covering his huge biceps. Before continuing further, a curse leaves your mouth at the lack of the black paint from the tube. The extra set of tubes were stacked high up in the supplies room and you would need to get a ladder to get them down.
"All okay?" Jason questions, already walking a little front to see you better.
"Yeah, it's just that the black paint tube is empty and I still need them," you mumble, trying to squeeze the aluminum of the tube just in case you were mistaken but alas!
"Are there not extra tubes?"
"There are. It's just a little inconvenient," you groan, head falling back.
The next few minutes that could have been spent painting, you were rather hauling a large ladder to the shelves of the supply room. Jason had come along, citing he'd like to explore the art center as much as possible.
You step onto the ladder, one rung at a time with your hands firmly clutching the red side rails. Reaching the last rung, your hands were at arms length to grab at the white plastic container housing the new set of tubes.
It happens fast.
One second your fingertips graze against the container, the next your arms are flailing in the air as your feet slips off the ladder. This was going to cause a sprain or worse, a fracture. But in the small moment you're afloat, you remind of yourself to stay positive even if things don't seem that way.
Squeezing your eyes, you wait for the ground to cradle you but it never happens. Instead you're cradled by rather soft yet taut muscles, one under your waist and the other, under your knees.
You could see the white tuft of hair blending against the black, the small tiny scars on the expanse of his skin that was not covered by the masks, the very faint cinnamon freckles scattered around his cheekbones — not many in number. His arm under your t-shirt is hot, the warmth transcending past the fabric as it caresses against your skin. Jason looks down at you and murmurs an 'are you okay'.
And all you want to do was kiss him.
Nope. Stay professional.
"Wow, yo-you have fast reflexes."
He laughs — a deep rumble in his chest that scratches at your pulse. Jason sets you down on your feet gently with his hands on your waist, the skin now burning with heat and hands you the pack of new paint tubes that he retrieved by climbing the ladder himself.
Both of you don't speak till you get back to the studio.
Every moment spent with each other is making it only harder and harder not to like your muse.
The same stands true for Jason.
Evenings are always a lot busier in the university than the mornings.
A lot more noise.
A lot more warmth.
Students shuffle around the campus in groups after a long exhausting day of classes, some laughing with friends to lay off the stress while others rush to grace their humble abode.
The art studio specifically had visitors on the rise between 4 pm and 7 pm — some professors visiting the space as other students would hang out with their friends who were art majors. The evenings were also the time workshops and other extracurriculars would be conducted — open to all students despite of their major and sometimes even the general public.
It had been a few hours now, and you finally had finished painting Red Hood onto the canvas. The only part that was left, was the children and the shadow which could be completed in a few hours. Jason could finally get out off the costume and return back to his leather jacket and tight t-shirt (the ones that you oh so admired, every time he stepped foot into the studio).
It was 4 p.m — well past lunch time —again— and the cafeteria wouldn't be open for so long nor would the food taste good. You had insisted to have lunch around 1pm but Jason did not mind posing till the painting was complete. Said he wasn't hungry.
Thus you had decided to order some takeout from the local Chinese restaurant next to Gotham University.
The rooftops of the art building was a secret picnic spot for a few students, including you. The evenings would involve some of your friends sat against the cotton picnic mat or laying back on it, embraced by the occasional colored skies of dusk.
"Shall we go to the rooftop? It's a pretty good spot to eat," you ask Jason. It wasn't that you couldn't have it here, surrounded by paint and varnish. This was something you were used to but not Jason.
"Sure."
The paper of the takeout bag scrunches under your palm as you walk toward the staircase. A soft sniffle stop you in your tracks.
Turning around, you try to check the source when your eyes land on one of the neighboring studio's — Serena's. Her auburn hair was hunched over her shoulders , hands rubbing against the splotchy skin of her face. Serena's eyes were red and swollen like she had been crying for a while.
After a knock on the glass door, you let yourself in. Jason stood near the doorway enough to hear the words spoken inside but not encroaching another's private space. He sees you sitting beside her, just rubbing her back. You hadn't spoken immediately, just waiting till Serena herself wanted to speak about it.
Once the sniffling died down, you squeeze her hands.
"What happened?" you ask softly, still rubbing her back in circles.
"I still have five paintings left," she whispers your name "And the one I finally did, a bottle of paint fell on top of it. I-I don't know what to do. I'm going to fail and —"
Serena starts crying again, her eyes flickering towards the now red splattered painting.
"Hey, listen to me," You try diverting her attention from the fallen painting to you. "You still have time, Serena. Start slow and once you feel confident enough, you will be able to finish them much faster. I know it's not easy."
You grab her shoulders gently, turning to face you. "And you might even hate me for saying this, but don't lose hope."
Her blue eyes water again, and you tell her to let it out.
Let it all out.
Jason had his back against the wall, his eyes looking at the sky through the glass windows. It was light blue, a color he hadn't witnessed often in Gotham over the years. Jason's ears don't pick up what you told Serena after the last three words that passed through his ears, and settled like a heavy brick in his mind.
Don't lose hope.
It's just three words, but it strikes Jason like glass piercing skin. Red fills his mind but it's not anger. No, he doesn't think he can feel that way about you, but rather it's annoyance.
Hope is promise.
And as they say, promises aren't meant to be broken.
Though a part of Jason fills with annoyance, there's small spurts of yellow bursting through, even without his knowledge. After all, his anger is towards the man he first found hope in. When Jason met Batman, he felt hope. A promise almost. His life was going to get better, he was going to study and help people like his mother - Catherine. He was going to make his father proud.
But as history goes, promises are lies.
Hope is a lie.
After a few minutes, she turns to you, her lips in a straight line. But her eyes were clearer, not happy, not hopeless — somewhere in between.
"Do you want to have some dumplings? I got them from the old grandma who's restaurant is near the university," you hand her the tiny box.
She shakes her head, trying to give it back to you. But you push it further into her lap.
"It's okay, just eat them and you'll feel energized," Bumping against her shoulders, you grin "Grandma's dumplings does that."
You invite her to the rooftop to which she politely declines citing she will start working on her project after eating the dumplings.
"Okay then, I will drop by later," you utter, waving as you walk back to the door until Serena calls out your name.
"Thank you."
You offer her a smile in return.
Jason thinks you're a little foolish.
The edges of the rooftop are low, just a few blocks tall with a flat metallic surface, glinting in the last rays of sun. You could see the entirety of Gotham University in all it's glory — tall buildings with Gothic architecture huddled among endless lush of green.
The sky was a hue of deep orange and light pink, bleeding out it's yellow as the night sky starts taking over. The days are quite short compared to the nights in Gotham. You lean against your elbows, the cotton fabric scrunching under your forearms. Jason sat next to you, legs crossed. The both of you had just finished eating — he had Chop Suey and you, Chilli Crisp noodles.
The takeout bag lies next to you, folded neatly so you could dispose of it appropriately. At this height in the rooftop, the sounds of Gotham dimmed into a sort of lullaby, along with the winds giving the perfect environment for one to doze off in it's ambience.
"You know that Serena finishing all five paintings within this week is not really possible right?" Jason mumbles, the first since having eaten lunch. He was no painter, but he knew a thing or two about how much time it would take for the paint to dry. It's not impossible but it would still be extremely hard.
Jason just did not understand why you had to give someone false hope instead of being realistic.
Sometimes hearing the truth feels better than false hope.
"You think I should have told her that it's going to be extremely hard?" you ask, turning your head towards him. The wind flutters through his hair, as the leather covering his arms scrunch at random crevices.
"No…I-i just think it's bad giving false hope to someone."
"I'm not Jason. I - I just told her the truth." you mutter, sitting upright.
"But one should be realistic."
"Hope is realistic, Jason."
It was not.
Jason of all people knew that. Hope wasn't realistic. Hope was for fools, he thinks, though it was still only hours ago he hoped you liked him. But if you knew him, really knew all about him, you could understand why he believed in what he did. He had hope in Bruce, but not only was it shattered to pieces, it made him loose trust in the four letter word all together.
"You think I'm foolish, don't you?"
The words are harsher than intended.
No, you were not annoyed at him. It just reminded you of the people you haven't been able to prove wrong yet.
"I'm sorry —" he starts before your voice interrupts him.
"No, it's fine. I'm not offended," you say, your voice soft as you look out into the pink sky. "I am foolish. I know that."
A slight pause. Jason looks at you, your eyes closed as the setting sun cast's it's last rays over you.
You looked peaceful.
Would having hope make him peaceful too?
Would it make it easier, to watch as the day passes and the moon shines, and have this belief that everything was going to turn out okay?
That maybe, just maybe, him coming back from the dead was for something.
Or was it only him who deserved to rot when he had hope? Why did everything turn to dust when he felt it? With Bruce. with Sheila.
Maybe he was cursed. Cursed to see hope as something not to hold, not to inherently believe in.
No, he is cursed. Because why did he have to meet you — the rendition of hope on this earth — fall in love with you, when he knows he can't have you.
When he can't have hope.
"But I think it's better than being hopeless." your voice lands like that of water in the endless stretch of desert. Hope. But it was him, who had to figure if it was real or a mirage.
Maybe Jason was going to truly believe this one day.
Maybe in another life.
Or just maybe you would be the one to prove it to him.
"What's got you so happy, Little Wing?"
Dick Grayson's words cling to the air as he leans against one of the pillars of the bat cave, a sly smile on his face accompanied by deepening dimples on both sides of his cheek. He was still in the latex suit of Nightwing, just the domino mask off.
Dick likes to think he knows his little brother. Which maybe is true, but only to a certain extent. He is not aware where his little brother lives now. Nor had his personal phone number. He knows Jason works as a mechanic, but where? No idea.
But Dick Grayson knows the little things about Jason Todd, like now as he sees him smile off in the distance at seemingly nothing. Just smiling out in the open, with his pearly whites in view. It was a beautiful sight, to see his younger smiling again in the presence of him. Indeed a rare sight, he wishes he could bask in more.
Jason rolls his eyes, smile replaced by the downturn quirk to his lips that was specifically meant for his brothers. He gathers his jacket, ready to leave only for dick to stand in front of him — arms and legs stretched as wide as a human could like that of a starfish — obstructing his path to exit.
"So, there's a girl, isn't it ?" Richard asks, wiggling his eyebrows like a lunatic.
"What, N-No. Just Shut up," Jason groans, pushing him out of the way but if he thought Dick was going to leave it at that, he was wrong. Dick had immediately noticed the red blossoming across Jason's face and ears. Honestly, he had just guessed it was about a girl (or a boy), something he did to almost all of his younger siblings like every older sibling did.
But now that it was really about a girl, just know that Dick Grayson was going to be one annoying wingman. But first he needed to know who you were, without using his detective skills (aka techniques to stalk criminals) that helped solve cases and were borderline illegal. The only other way was to ask Jason.
Meanwhile, the both of you had been texting about when you and him would be unconstrained by other duties to coordinate for his portrait.
It had been two hours, two whole hours of Dick Grayson essentially torturing his younger brother about you. Questions about how you two met, where you met, and when you met, had eventually Jason break the dam.
"I am cosplaying as Red Hood for her," Jason's voice is loud as it echoes against the dark walls of the cave. It was only the two of them underground as the rest were either asleep or completing their other daytime duties.
"YOU-WHAT." Dick was now on the floor, hands pressed against his stomach as his hysterical laughter rings throughout the cave. Jason drags a palm across his face, hiding the quirk of his lips. He turns to leave, when Dick immediately stops him.
"Okay, no laughing," he says, while laughing.
"Okay, so….how did this happen?" Dick asks, a fist to his mouth to stop the giggle from flowing past his lips, but his eyes were enough to convey the absolute mirth coursing through his body.
Jason briefly mentioned the circumstances — of how he saw you at the library, then near Crime Alley and the proposal to be the muse for your Red Hood painting — without conveying the full story.
Dick hums, his palm cradling his jaw as his elbow sits on his knee. During the conversation both of them had moved to the couch (really on Dick's insistence).
"So, you like her?"
"No."
"If you say so, because you have been awfully smiley since the day you met her, if I tally the timeline right." Dick's palm clasps against Jason's shoulder and giving it a tiny squeeze before leaving him to embrace the ambience of the bat cave alone.
"If she makes you happy, tell her."
Jason is at the studio early the next day.
Today was the day you were going to paint a portrait of him — not Red Hood, but Jason Todd. Another reminder that this would be likely be the last day he could bask in the presence of you. The door to your space was unlocked, to which he let's himself inside after knocking on it twice.
There you were, face mushed against the teakwood of the table, one hand laid next to your face. You were fast asleep, chest rising evenly with every breath. He wanted to remove the tiny paint streak on your cheek, sway the baby hair away from your forehead but retracted his hands.
You looked angelic.
He moves to the finished painting on the easel — the Red Hood painting.
He knew you would excel, after looking at the paintings of other vigilantes. But it still blew him away when he sees the final canvas. There he stood leaning against the wall at the center, some graffiti etched on the red brick while a street sign with 'CRIME ALLEY' gleamed at the front.
The white angel wing towered large on the left side, as the rays of the sun hit every feather. Like you had mentioned, in place of the teddy bears were children — both boys and girls — running towards the light with wide grins on their faces. The right side of him, where the angel wing was not present, a stump sprinkled with red instead had a large shadow cast on the street. It looked almost black but if you looked closer and titled a little, under the intensity of different wavelengths of light, you could see packets of drugs, sharp shredded knives scattered around the street and blue ribbons clumped together, symbolizing human trafficking.
"Jason?"
Your voice huddled with sleep breaks him out his gaze at the painting. You rub your eyes, yawning slightly before swiftly getting off the chair. Yesterday's clothes stick to your body and you looked like you hadn't slept, which was true as you had only laid your head down on the table an hour ago. The night before was spent on preparing your thesis statement and shifting all your finished paintings that were coated with varnish to the assigned space in the exhibit for your final grading.
You also had helped Serena by giving her company and encouraging her with ideas. She was finally able to finish all of them on time — though they weren't perfect, there were present and that's all that mattered at the end of the day.
"I'm so sorry, Jason," you fumble around to put on your shoes. "Just give me thirty minutes and I will be back. I am so—"
"Hey, it's fine. Take your time. I can look around the currently open exhibitions right?" He asks, hands tucked into his jacket. Even in your haze of looking absolutely horrendous and embarrassed, you did not forget to observe the way his white t-shirt stretched across his chest, moving with every breath.
Fucking hell.
"Yes. You can visit them." you say before, muttering a 'thank you'. You rush out of the building to your dorm to get ready. You had already called Zara to cook some light breakfast that you could just grab before running as fast as possible to your dorm room. All you had to do was brush your teeth, take a shower, be presentable enough.
You could do this. In thirty minutes? Hopefully.
Meanwhile Jason roams around the third and fourth floor of the building, a few exhibits open. One was depicting the art of sculpting — the various techniques, the variety of raw materials that are being used, some exhibits of sculpture made by students using different techniques.
He stood and read every description present beside each exhibit.
The next exhibition revolved around the theme of costume designing. Costumes from different eras across the world were presented, along with a paragraph about it. He learnt so much about the types of patterns, materials that he had never heard and had even taken down notes of a few things he did not mind finding more information from the library.
Jason turns around to look at the next design when he catches your eyes. You were leaning against the doorway, a smile on your face and eyes loaded with awe. Perhaps you were admiring the same costumes as he was.
Only if he knew you were admiring him.
"Hey, you've been waiting for a while?"
"No, I just arrived," you say, pointing back at the exhibits."We can stay for a while."
"It's fine, I was just revisiting them again," Jason said, standing in front of you.
"So, shall we go?" you ask, voice drenched in honey.
He bows, extending his hand front "Lead the way, m'lady." You shake your head, fighting the rising heat to the expanse of your face.
How were you not supposed to fall in love with Jason Todd.
"Do you have any specifics? A particular art style maybe?"
You sit in front of the easel, a new white canvas leaned on it. Jason was sitting ahead of you , the white wall behind him. Jazz tunes drift through the air, as you coat the palette with the varied colors you could see on Jason. It seemed like it didn't matter what he wore, because the man looked like he could model for vogue adorned in a trash can. He removes his jacket, now only clad in the white t-shirt. The black ink on his skin is inviting you to color it, streak it with purples and yellows.
"No, up to your imagination. I like whatever you do. "
"Uhh…Thank you," your voice comes out soft as you duck down a little, keeping your head turned towards the canvas so he could not see the silly grin carved on the lips. " Okay so, just sit still and I should be done in a few hours."
You hum to the melody, creating a basic outline of him on the canvas, eyes flicking towards his figure constantly. The last time you did, he was wearing the Red Hood costume in which the domino mask acted as a barrier to his eyes.
But now, you could see those emerald hues, the color akin to some of the lush you found in the campus. Jason looked ahead, staring right at you, which was no mistake of his since a portrait painting required him to do so, but it distracted you easily.
But someone else was more distracted than you — Jason Todd.
Jason was scarred — from the expanse of his cheeks to all over his body. He was used to the stares, the open ended questions — sometimes even the screams of kids. Red Hood's mask had made him a lot more confident than him being himself — as Jason Todd. But you, you had seen his face — unmasked, scarred — yet wanted him to be your muse.
To willingly see his face everyday.
It made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time.
It made him feel something he thinks he doesn't deserve.
Jason did not like being stared at. It was something he was aware of since he was a child but even more so after coming back from the dead. But ever since he had met you, he realized he did not mind it — only if it was you.
The way your eyes locked onto his form, it carried no judgment.
No fear.
You traced over his features, painting every scar, every freckle that encompassed the delicate skin of his face. The portrait was going to be till his shoulders.
Just as the Red Hood painting, Jason did not move much. By the time you had finished the painting, you realized you wanted to paint Jason Todd in all the different art styles in the world. Remember it in all forms like the art he was.
It had taken you barely a few hours to finish his painting. Every feature delicately drawn and colored appropriately with care. The final touch you had added was the golden hues emanating around him, a bordered yellow.
"Done!" you exclaimed, standing up. Jason walks around the easel to see his painting and he was starstruck.
It felt like he was seeing someone else, not himself. Every scar, every blemish but drawn as features rather than some kind of imperfections. You stood beside him with hopeful eyes and teeth digging into your lower lip, as you await his reaction.
"Wow, I—" wide eyed, Jason leans in closer. It felt different from photographs or looking at the mirror.
It felt different drawn by you. "It's beautiful," he says, looking at you now. The artist of him.
"Thank you."
Walking towards the parking lot, the wind caresses against your skin making you tug your coat to yourself.
You wanted to say something to Jason.
The words lie on the tip of your tongue, but they don't leave your mouth. You wanted to thank him. But most of all, you wanted to tell him about the growing feelings of pink in your heart. Did he feel the same about you?
Jason hands twitch against the pocket of his jacket. He wants to say something too, but can't.
Won't.
He couldn't destroy your life.
You were filled with hope, shining brightly like the sun. Yellow colored every space that had the fortune to be touched by your presence, human sunshine trying to fill in the grays of Gotham that Jason had always believed was all the city will ever be.
He couldn't come into your life and destroy your peace.
He couldn't make you believe there was no hope.
He couldn't make your life be painted with Grey.
He couldn't.
Though it had only been three days in the presence of each other, it felt like you had known each other for months. As you reach the parking lot where his bike stands, you extend a hand towards him.
"Thank you for everything." Eyes filled with so much warmth, Jason wants to bask in it. He was happy that he was the reason for the warmth. In a way, that was all he needed.
He was glad he made you happy.
But that did not erase the ache in his heart. He was going to miss seeing you .
Being near you.
"Thank you," he murmurs, feeling your delicate skin against his scarred one. Holding them for a minute longer. Finally he pulls away, walking to his bike.
He climbs over the bike, hands fiddling with the black helmet. Before he places it over his head, he looks at you one last time, cataloguing every part of you to his core memory.
Jason doesn't believe in hope but for you, he believes it one last time.
"I hope you meet the person you're waiting for in Gotham."
Jason was scarred — from the expanse of his cheeks to all over his body. He was used to the stares, the open ended questions — sometimes even the screams of kids. Red Hood's mask had made him a lot more confident than him being himself — as Jason Todd. But you, you had seen his face — unmasked, scarred — yet wanted him to be your muse.
By the time you had finished the painting, you realized you wanted to paint Jason Todd in all the different art styles in the world. Remember it in all forms like the art he was.
I absolutely adore how differently reader sees Jason versus how he sees himself. It’s perfection 😌
"YOU-WHAT." Dick was now on the floor, hands pressed against his stomach as his hysterical laughter rings throughout the cave. Jason drags a palm across his face, hiding the quirk of his lips. He turns to leave, when Dick immediately stops him.
"Okay, no laughing," he says, while laughing.
"Okay, so….how did this happen?" Dick asks, a fist to his mouth to stop the giggle from flowing past his lips, but his eyes were enough to convey the absolute mirth coursing through his body.
This entire interaction had me cackling. This situation really is so funny from an outside perspective. But Dick is being a supportive big brother which is what counts
"I hope you meet the person you're waiting for in Gotham."
You really hope you meet the Robin again.
I’m so excited for reader to realize that they have already met the Robin they are looking for :)
Blue’s Notes - I am still doing my 600 follower event so not a lot of wips this month!
One shots
Good Luck, Babe - Rose Wilson x Batsis!Reader
⤷ Rose and you are supposed to be at odds, it would make sense considering both your fathers’ opposite world views, in the end it doesn’t end up that way. There is too much magnesium between you to ignore. You know that sooner or later someone will find out but for now these moments are yours to keep.
Future and Present Collide - Jason Todd x Nurse!Reader
⤷ You and Jason have been together for a year and a half now, one night during patrol when you are in the cave two visitors dropped in and show you a glimpse of your future together.
Summary - Dick and you have been dating for a couple months so he decides to start telling his family, with your permission, while you are off world. Only no one believes him. Thus begins a month of Dick trying and failing to convince a family of detectives that he has a girlfriend.
Event Masterlist
"Do you have to go?" Dick whines and flops back onto your bed dramatically next to you.
"Sadly I can't blow off an incoming space war for you." You laugh and push at his shoulder. "I will hopefully be back in about a month."
He sighs, letting his head lean back against the pillow so he can stare up at your ceiling, "I wish you didn't have to be so absent lately."
The humor on your face melts away into something softer as you fix some of his curls that have fallen into his face. He looks over at you with a longing that has sat in his chest for years.
"I asked for more time off so hopefully I will start working closer to home. After that I will be around more and I can finally meet your family properly."
The prospect of you being around more often makes him giddy but you meeting his family makes him a little nervous.
They are going to love you, he knows because Dick loves you. The problem was that he would most likely never have alone time with you ever again.
"I will let them know about us while you are gone so they can be eased into it." Dick decides aloud.
You give him a smile that makes him feel like he just won the lottery, "I am excited to meet them and the other Lanterns probably want to give you a shovel talk, especially Guy and Hal."
Dick can't help but roll his eyes at that, "They can't scare me, I'm not even scared of Batman."
"Maybe but they feel the need to so don't laugh at them too hard." You laugh and kiss his cheek.
Once you have left with the rest of the lanterns, and Hal and Guy have threatened him sufficiently, he decides to begin the process of telling his family.
Dick tells Bruce first, knowing his mentor would appreciate not being kept in the dark. He stays behind one night after patrol when everyone else is gone. Bruce calls him out on his constant fidgiting and Dick tells him the truth.
He gets a hum in response. Usually it would be a grunt of acknowledgement or something like that but instead he gets a hum that sounds extremely skeptical.
Dick narrows his eyes at him and doesn't call him out on it, just files it away for later.
One by one he pulls his family aside to tell them about you and each time he is either looked at with confusion or, in Jason's case, laughed at hysterically for ten minutes.
He doesn't know what is going on. Are they collectively pranking him? Have they all gone insane? Has he gone insane?
You are still off world so he feels particularly down as he stands on a rooftop over looking Gotham. He feels terribly like Bruce as he broods while the city moves below him.
"Nightwing." Bruce greets as he lands on the rooftop, followed by Jason and Damian.
Jason gives him a two fingered salute while Damian nods in his direction.
"Batman, Red Hood, Robin." Dick greets. "What do you need from me?"
"We need your help on a case-" Bruce starts and Dick immediately crosses over to their side of the roof, ready to help.
Bruce goes to continue talking but a bright streak of pink light illuminates the night sky.
Dick is almost knocked over by how fast you hug him, it knocks some of the air out of his lungs. As soon as he registers what is happening he hugs you back.
"Baby!" You float a little off the ground as you hold him. "I missed you so much!"
"I missed you to." Dick says with a soft smile.
You release him and he remembers that Bruce, Damian and Jason are still there.
Dick's smile turns to a self satisfied smirk.
"This is my partner." He looks smug as they all are in various states of shock.
"Hi!" You wave cheerfully at them, unaware of his uphill battle of getting his family to believe him.
"I thought you made it up Richard," Damian regains his ability to speak first. "She is very out of your league."
Dick groans in frustration while you hold back laughter.
He wishes he never told his family about you.
Blue’s notes - Star Sapphire reader how I love you 💕 also this idea is hilarious to me.
summary: You give them flowers
character(s): Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake
tags and warning(s) Implied fem reader, batfam cameo in Jason's part, idiots to lovers in Jason's part lmao, suggestive, one mention of wedding in Dick's, also mentions of food in Dick's portion, Nothing else(unless I've missed something),Dick's portion is slightly based off of this post by @batwngs, Maybe OOC, Reblogs and comments appreciated!
word count: 2.4K
DC masterlist
BRUCE WAYNE
The sound of heels clacking against the marble tiles reverberates through the lobby as you move past the teak of the front desk. It wasn't unusual for you to stop by the company, but what was unusual was the large bouquet of fresh red roses, neatly wrapped in a sleek black sheet with golden borders that found home in your arms. The bouquet was so huge, it almost covered the entirety of your face.
"Mrs. Wayne, I can—" Rina, one of your husband's secretaries, asks, having spotted you among the crowd, her arms hovering over the flowers.
"It's okay, Rina. I got this," you smile, holding the bouquet a little tighter against your chest. "Thank you."
She nods, though the concern etched onto her face doesn't waver as she gazes at your form walking towards the elevator specifically reserved for Bruce Wayne and a few select people. You press the button for the top floor, readjusting your grip at the base of the bouquet. The silver-stained doors slide open with a hiss as you walk past Daniel, another of Bruce's secretaries, who immediately offers to help, to which you politely decline.
Knocking on the glass door with your knuckles, your hands fumble around for the handle due to your limited vision. Bruce Wayne notices almost instantly, leaving the paperwork behind as he rushes to the door. He takes the bouquet out of your hands without question and sets it on top of his desk.
"So who gave you the flowers?" Bruce asks, trying to mask the green in his heart while his eyes try to find any message card tucked away in the assortment. It wasn’t unusual for you to receive such gifts as a part of your work in betterment of the city, though it stills irks something in him.
"It's for you?" His hands still, deep blue eyes locking onto yours.
"…for me?"
"Yeah, I saw them on the way here, and it reminded me of you." You say, plopping onto the leather of his office chair.
"Roses reminded you of me?" Bruce is genuinely stumped, eyes wide and glazed with confusion.
Batman is remembered for a lot of things — the dark knight of Gotham, Justice, vigilante, while his alter ego Brucie Wayne — Wealth, playboy and glamour.
But for the first time, the one person who knew him — all of him — remembered Bruce Wayne because of roses.
"Yes, my beautiful husband. These red roses reminded me of you." Your voice is soft as you look up at him with your chin on your palm, elbows on the desk.
"Thank you, sweetheart"
Bruce leans down and kisses you on the lips, before laying a soft one on your forehead.
JASON TODD
Jason was away in Star City for a mission, staying at Roy's place. He would be back later today, and you had decided to surprise him. The past few months had been very hectic for Jason. From missions that sometimes lasted months to patrols that never synced with your work timings, you hardly got to see each other.
That's why you had decided to plan a mini reading event that would last for a few days, after taking off from work and mentioning it to the Outlaws and his family.
As the first step, you had decided to welcome your best friend with an assortment of flowers and copies of some of the books off his TBR carefully covered in wrapping paper. Jason had been wanting them for a long time but hadn't had the chance to buy them yet.
You had just finished wrapping the books when Jason texted you about reaching Gotham and that he would be at your place in an hour. With a curve to your lips, you set down the phone after replying with a thumbs up.
You met Jason after a quick detour to the bookstore. Five-minute conversations about books had turned to hours of texting, to later hanging out at each other's places. Over the course of your friendship, he had revealed his nightly activities and even introduced you to some of his teammates and family.
Both of you are good friends, though you both ached it would be more than that.
A few moments later, a knock on the front door has you cleaning haphazardly after realising how messy your living room was. Jason is early, like he always is. He's clad in a leather jacket, red t-shirt stretched across his chest, that you couldn't really indulge in the sight as he pulls you into a hug. The fresh smell of his shampoo and perfume fills your nostrils as you nuzzle into his chest.
"How have you been, Jason?" you ask, now looking at his face. Red sprouts in blossoms across his face as his chin tips down. That's when you notice — his right hand tucked behind.
" I'm sorry for how long it took to finally meet." Jason murmurs, before his right hand comes into view, holding a bouquet of pink peonies and two books wrapped in gift paper.
"Wait, you got —" you laugh, before running back into your room. Jason's eyebrows furrow, deepening the creases of his forehead as he sees you disappearing down the hallway.
"Please tell me, we did not get the same books." You mumble, now appearing in the doorway with the bouquet of books and peonies. Jason laughs, his palm ruffling through his hair.
" I got Taiwan Travelogue for you," Jason says, pointing at the neatly wrapped book in his palm.
" Oh my god, I got you the same along with some other books."
The air is tinged with something both of you can't place, or rather, won't place. Heat rushes through your body, the distance between you seemingly crackling with intensity so loud, though you both just ignore. You both knew each other so well, you bought the same books for each other. So why hadn't either of you taken the next step? Did he perhaps not like you?
If Stephanie had been here, she would have screamed at both of you.
"Just fucking kiss, you idiots."
Except, the words felt too real — almost like someone was actually shouting it in reality and not just in your head.
Turning back to the window of your living room, you almost drop the bouquet at the sight of not only Stephanie but also Cassandra, Tim, Dick, Duke and Damian all fighting to view inside through the small window.
Jason drags a palm across his face.
TIM DRAKE
You and Tim have been in a long-distance relationship ever since you moved out of Gotham for your job. There were a lot of ups and downs, through the course of your relationship — especially owing to the distance. But you traversed through it — Communication being the key.
But now you were here, in the Wayne manor.
After a few gruesome months of work, you had finally returned to Gotham City for a small vacation, which Tim wasn't aware of. You wanted to surprise him, and though he had his tendencies to keep track of you for safety, with the help of dick, you had managed to trick Tim into thinking you were still far, far away and not doors away from the bat cave.
Standing in front of the grandfather clock, you texted your boyfriend a link. The link being a website, you had coded yourself from scratch through tutorials and tutorials.
you: [link]
Tim has always been suspicious of links, especially since he was hyper aware of all that could go wrong with just a single click. It wasn't unusual that you sent him a link, considering the fact that you liked his opinions on some of the things you liked to buy. But just a link—with no follow-up message, was a little worrying. As Tim contemplates the link, you send another text just in time.
You: Open it fast!!
Tim huffs, a small smile on his face. The link did not open to a shopping website or something that you had learnt along the way but rather a webpage with an animated flower in the middle, a small button with the words 'Start' below it.
He clicks on it, albeit a little apprehensive and amused, when he sees the following words along with a picture of your face — eyes large and lips jutted into a pout replacing that of the flower animation.
Do you like me? — Yes or No?
Tim clicks on the 'Yes' button. The picture changes to that of you , smiling wide. His lips curve immediately at the sight, all the sleepiness bundled in his eyes, vanishing in an instant.
The web page refreshes to the next question, another picture of you — with your hands on your hips , lips pressed into a tiny frown — with the following words at the bottom.
Do you love me? — Yes or No?
He huffs, shaking his head as the words 'of course' leave his lips softly. He clicks on the 'yes' button again. Now, the frown on your face was replaced by your smile and eyes crinkling as your hands form a heart.
But the next words still him. What did you even mean by that?
Then why don't you open the door?
A small creak of the staircase has him turning his head swiftly. There you stood, in all your flesh and bones, with a bouquet of pink,red roses, and some pink lilies in between. You were here, physically just a few meters away. The minute it truly strikes Tim, he is already at your side, hugging you with his head tucked into the crook of your neck as you let out soft giggles.
"Hi, Tim." you ruffle his hair, as he kisses your neck before cupping your face and placing a kiss on your lips. You hand him the flowers, which he gently takes it and murmurs a thank you before placing it aside.
"You're here," Tim whispers. He had missed you, missed the warmth that you gave him. Sure, you guys spoke every day, but this was different.
"I am," you say, giggling, locking your wrists around his neck while his hands plant gently at your waist.
"You made the website? The one with the flowers and your pictures?" He asks, placing another kiss on your lips.
You hum.
" A lot of tutorials , and a little help from my roommate." It had been a pretty hard project for someone who had no experience in coding, but you wanted to surprise Tim through something that he loved.
"God, you're so fucking talented. I should worship you." Tim murmurs, before he starts kissing you again as giggles echo in the Bat cave.
DICK GRAYSON
Dick Grayson was used to doing things by himself.
He would be there in a minute to help others, but would never ask for help for himself. He would drop everything if he heard or even got a whiff that someone he loved was not doing well. But he hid the same about him from others. After all, he could do it by himself. He would be fine.
That was until he met you.
You made sure he took care of himself and let out his emotions frequently instead of bottling them up. It had been a while since you had a date night with your boyfriend, and so you planned one.
You made sure to act as oblivious as you could, sneaking to buy all the ingredients to make his favourite dishes. You had also informed his family beforehand so that dick would not have to patrol for the night in Bludhaven.
When Dick Grayson steps inside the apartment, he is greeted with scented candles, lit up in the hall way. The smell of cream cheese and crab meat waft through his sense, already knowing what's for dinner, which suspends all his worries away. Dick walks to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway as he sees you making some spaghetti and at the same time, stuffing the mushrooms with the crab filling.
You look up at the clock in the hallway only to see Dick Grayson leaning against the door like a model posing for cameras.
"You're early," you say, washing your hands under the sink to give your boyfriend a hug and a kiss.
" Pretty chill day at the station." Dick murmurs against your lips, "What's the special occasion?"
" Nothing. Just thought about you and decided my beautiful boyfriend deserved this." Tugging his hands off your hips, you move back to the kitchen while Dick whines at the loss of contact. " Now go and change into something comfortable."
Once Dick is in his sweatpants and a T-shirt, he is back in the kitchen, already insisting he helped you in some way or another. It takes a lot of convincing (and threats) for him to go back to the living room. Dick really wants to help you.
After a few minutes, you set the dishes down on the table — crab stuffed mushrooms and spaghetti, a pair of wine glasses and two tubs of chocolate chip ice cream for desert. 'How to lose a guy in ten days' play on the large screen, as dick gets comfortable with the cushions laid against his back. You disappear once again, to which dick immediately pouts before it widens into a smile when you come back again — with a bouquet.
You hand him the assortment of red and pink roses with a kiss on the cheek.
"To the best boyfriend in the whole world."
Dick Grayson flusters, a deep red akin to that of the red roses. His dimples deepen when he sees each stem of the flower having a tiny piece of paper attached. He reads one of them and immediately looks at you wide-eyed. Dick does the same for another piece of paper , before he pulls you into a bone crushing hug.
Each of the tiny pieces of paper attached to the stem had handwritten verses from some of his favourite poetry that he loved to read.
Dick's heart flutters at the amount of effort you had taken, taken for him. He swiftly places a hundred kisses all over your face, while you giggle, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt.
The night ends with your tummy full, movies watched, slow dancing to music, Dick reciting the verses dramatically— with his hand on his chest and arms pointed at you — and hearts filled with love. As you sleep next to him, he looks at you and wonders how he got so lucky. After all that had happened in his life, he didn't know how he still deserved you. The flowers were now in a vase on the table, and the notes — delicately packed into a box. Best believe, Dick is going to read these notes when you exchange vows during the wedding.
He presses one last kiss onto your forehead before shuffling closer to you. Dick was going to pay a visit to Poison Ivy and ask all the ways he could extend the lifetime of those flowers.
A/N: The next part will be with Roy, Clark, Barbara, Wally!!
Batman is remembered for a lot of things — the dark knight of Gotham, Justice, vigilante, while his alter ego Brucie Wayne — Wealth, playboy and glamour.
But for the first time, the one person who knew him — all of him — remembered Bruce Wayne because of roses.
I need to get this man an office full of roses so he knows that he is loved 😭
Turning back to the window of your living room, you almost drop the bouquet at the sight of not only Stephanie but also Cassandra, Tim, Dick, Duke and Damian all fighting to view inside through the small window.
Jason drags a palm across his face.
All of them being there is hilarious. You would think that vigilantes would have better things to do lol
A small creak of the staircase has him turning his head swiftly. There you stood, in all your flesh and bones, with a bouquet of pink,red roses, and some pink lilies in between. You were here, physically just a few meters away. The minute it truly strikes Tim, he is already at your side, hugging you with his head tucked into the crook of your neck as you let out soft giggles.
I adore clingy Tim- he is my favorite also the website is such a cute idea!!!
The night ends with your tummy full, movies watched, slow dancing to music, Dick reciting the verses dramatically— with his hand on his chest and arms pointed at you — and hearts filled with love. As you sleep next to him, he looks at you and wonders how he got so lucky. After all that had happened in his life, he didn't know how he still deserved you. The flowers were now in a vase on the table, and the notes — delicately packed into a box. Best believe, Dick is going to read these notes when you exchange vows during the wedding.
This whole paragraph is just so amazing. He deserves all the nice things even if he doesn’t believe it. I love how he is planning the wedding already- it’s adorable 🥰
I love this so much and I am so excited for part two!!!!
Summary - Jason plans out a whole proposal only to forget everything when he gets down on one knee.
Jason has always been a planner. Even when he was young he took comfort in making a plan. It makes him feel more confident in himself and in his abilities if he can make a plan and at least a dozen contingencies for said plan.
So when it came to him proposing to you he planned it out for months in advance.
You had begun dropping hints after your third anniversary, staring too long at rings in the windows of a jewelry store, making a secret wedding Pinterest board that he found open on accident on your phone, bringing up the future often.
Jason would be an idiot to not see your hints and come hell or high water he was going to make it happen.
So he started planning out the best date and time to propose to you. He probably looked a little crazy to his siblings as he set up a cork board in one of his many safe houses with ideas and dates.
Dick was the only one that thought his planning was sweet, everyone else thought he was stressing out about your answer. And maybe in a different time he would be but after three years of you staying and reassuring him that you wanted him he was sure that you would say yes.
He had the ring custom made with your anniversary etched on the inside of the band and a garnet in the center alongside two small diamonds. Dick and Roy had helped him pick it out, they argued most of the time but in they end helped, three months before he planned to propose.
There were multiple phone calls from his brother and best friend to hype him up in the two days before he planned to propose. He had outwardly scoffed at them calling him to tell him that you would obviously say yes but inwardly he appreciated the support.
When you walk out of your shared bedroom he almost gets on one knee there. You look radiant and Jason almost forgets his whole plan. He restrains himself because him proposing before dinner wasn’t planned.
First, Jason takes you to the bookshop where you met and has become a semi-frequent date spot.
It’s a small hole in the wall shop that really only people know in the upper east side know about. He knows the owner, an older woman named Meredith whose family had this shop for generations, and she was extremely excited to know that you two were getting engaged. She keeps it a secret for him but does give him a discount on the books you end up buying.
He really enjoys watching you read through the backs of books with a slight pinch between your brows. You eventually end up getting two since you couldn’t decide between them.
After you finish up at the book store he takes you a couple blocks down to an Italian restaurant that he knows is a front for the mafia but makes the best cannolis he has ever had so he lets it slide. You talk about your work, friends and anything else that comes to mind and Jason is happy to watch you talk.
When the check is dropped off by a gruff looking guy who gives Jason a knowing smile you reach for it and Jason lightly smacks your hand away from it.
“Nope.” He states simply.
“Jay-” You go to protest with a frown on your face.
“Nope!” His voice increases in volume as he takes the bill away from your hands.
You give him a huff and an eye roll before giving in. Jason feels particularly accomplished as he walks up to pay the bill.
Once the bill is settled Jason leads you back to your building and up to the roof.
He had some help decorating the roof since he was with you for most of the day. Steph and Cass had taken point on that because Steph had told him that his taste was tragic, Cass had agreed before pulling out Bruce’s credit card that she swiped off of him somehow.
“Jason.” You gasp softly at the lit up rooftop decorated with pillows and blankets for stargazing. “This is beautiful.”
He runs his hand over the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I just came up with the idea, Steph and Cass set everything up.”
You squeeze his hand softly, “You still thought of it and that’s what matters.”
Jason takes a deep breath, reaching for the ring box in his pocket. “I also have something else.”
You get a confused pinch between your brows that evens out into shock as Jason gets down on one knee.
He goes to say the long speech he had planned, the one where he told you how much you mean to him, how you love him the way he is, how you make him want to live again rather then just survive. Jason had pondered what to say for months.
But now as he look up into your shocked face and teary eyes his brain stutters to a stop.
“Please?” Jason breathes out, no other words in his mind.
“Yes.” You sob and throw yourself into his arms. “Yes! Oh my god Jay. Yes.”
Jason holds you with a smile on his face that’s so wide it hurts because you love him when he has a plan and even when he doesn’t.
Blue’s Notes - Late night update inspired by this post! It’s so Jason that I couldn’t not write it.
restaurant that he knows is a front for the mafia but makes the best cannolis he has ever had so he lets it slide.
I giggled so much at this
No, because out of all people, I can see Jason really doing this. Him giving a whole ass long speech minutes ago and then forgetting the basic four words is so him in this situation. And this is so well written and detailed!!
Love the tiny detail of how dick and roy are there for support but then also fight among each other. Also I wonder if the batfam were there to witness it (since they helped) and after they hear him just utter please, I know for a fact jason is getting teased to oblivion.
Summary - Jason plans out a whole proposal only to forget everything when he gets down on one knee.
Jason has always been a planner. Even when he was young he took comfort in making a plan. It makes him feel more confident in himself and in his abilities if he can make a plan and at least a dozen contingencies for said plan.
So when it came to him proposing to you he planned it out for months in advance.
You had begun dropping hints after your third anniversary, staring too long at rings in the windows of a jewelry store, making a secret wedding Pinterest board that he found open on accident on your phone, bringing up the future often.
Jason would be an idiot to not see your hints and come hell or high water he was going to make it happen.
So he started planning out the best date and time to propose to you. He probably looked a little crazy to his siblings as he set up a cork board in one of his many safe houses with ideas and dates.
Dick was the only one that thought his planning was sweet, everyone else thought he was stressing out about your answer. And maybe in a different time he would be but after three years of you staying and reassuring him that you wanted him he was sure that you would say yes.
He had the ring custom made with your anniversary etched on the inside of the band and a garnet in the center alongside two small diamonds. Dick and Roy had helped him pick it out, they argued most of the time but in they end helped, three months before he planned to propose.
There were multiple phone calls from his brother and best friend to hype him up in the two days before he planned to propose. He had outwardly scoffed at them calling him to tell him that you would obviously say yes but inwardly he appreciated the support.
When you walk out of your shared bedroom he almost gets on one knee there. You look radiant and Jason almost forgets his whole plan. He restrains himself because him proposing before dinner wasn’t planned.
First, Jason takes you to the bookshop where you met and has become a semi-frequent date spot.
It’s a small hole in the wall shop that really only people know in the upper east side know about. He knows the owner, an older woman named Meredith whose family had this shop for generations, and she was extremely excited to know that you two were getting engaged. She keeps it a secret for him but does give him a discount on the books you end up buying.
He really enjoys watching you read through the backs of books with a slight pinch between your brows. You eventually end up getting two since you couldn’t decide between them.
After you finish up at the book store he takes you a couple blocks down to an Italian restaurant that he knows is a front for the mafia but makes the best cannolis he has ever had so he lets it slide. You talk about your work, friends and anything else that comes to mind and Jason is happy to watch you talk.
When the check is dropped off by a gruff looking guy who gives Jason a knowing smile you reach for it and Jason lightly smacks your hand away from it.
“Nope.” He states simply.
“Jay-” You go to protest with a frown on your face.
“Nope!” His voice increases in volume as he takes the bill away from your hands.
You give him a huff and an eye roll before giving in. Jason feels particularly accomplished as he walks up to pay the bill.
Once the bill is settled Jason leads you back to your building and up to the roof.
He had some help decorating the roof since he was with you for most of the day. Steph and Cass had taken point on that because Steph had told him that his taste was tragic, Cass had agreed before pulling out Bruce’s credit card that she swiped off of him somehow.
“Jason.” You gasp softly at the lit up rooftop decorated with pillows and blankets for stargazing. “This is beautiful.”
He runs his hand over the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I just came up with the idea, Steph and Cass set everything up.”
You squeeze his hand softly, “You still thought of it and that’s what matters.”
Jason takes a deep breath, reaching for the ring box in his pocket. “I also have something else.”
You get a confused pinch between your brows that evens out into shock as Jason gets down on one knee.
He goes to say the long speech he had planned, the one where he told you how much you mean to him, how you love him the way he is, how you make him want to live again rather then just survive. Jason had pondered what to say for months.
But now as he look up into your shocked face and teary eyes his brain stutters to a stop.
“Please?” Jason breathes out, no other words in his mind.
“Yes.” You sob and throw yourself into his arms. “Yes! Oh my god Jay. Yes.”
Jason holds you with a smile on his face that’s so wide it hurts because you love him when he has a plan and even when he doesn’t.
Blue’s Notes - Late night update inspired by this post! It’s so Jason that I couldn’t not write it.
i saw someone saying on twitter about a woman who said that her boyfriend was so nervous when propose her that he forgot everything and ended up just getting on his knees saying “please”.
i hope every writer who reads this makes the best of it
Synopsis: Dick Grayson is convinced Jason Todd deserves to fall in love. Jason Todd is convinced Dick Grayson should mind his own business. Unfortunately for him, the Batfamily seems to have chosen its side. Between clumsy interventions, far too convenient coincidences, and a fate that insists on playing matchmaker, Jason finds himself caught up in a situation he no longer truly controls. The worst part? He probably figured out what was going on long before everyone else. He simply decided to say nothing.
divider from @pixopix
The problem with Jason Todd was that he was fine.
Which, in his case, didn't mean much. But for six months, Jason had stopped disappearing for weeks at a time, had answered three calls out of five, and had even agreed to come to the manor for Thanksgiving without anyone having to threaten him. It was objective, measurable progress.
It was also, in Dick's opinion, deeply concerning.
"He's bored," he said.
Damian looked up from his book. They were sitting on the floor of the second-floor hallway of Wayne Manor, because Dick had decided that was where they were going to have this conversation, apparently.
"He's bored or you're bored ?"
"Him. Look at the signs, Damian. He answers texts too fast, whereas he usually responds after 2 days. He watched eighty-two episodes of a home renovation show in two weeks. He sent me a photo of a SUNSET."
Damian considered this for a second.
"It was a nice photo."
"That's exactly my point."
He stood up, crossed his arms, and Damian recognized in his expression the precise look of someone who had already made a bad decision and was now looking for company to share it with.
"He needs someone," Dick said. "An anchor. Someone outside of all this."
"Outside of all this," Damian repeated flatly.
"Someone normal. Who lives a normal life. Who does their grocery shopping, pays their rent, has plants on their windowsill."
"You're describing an apartment, not a person."
Dick wasn't really listening anymore. Damian closed his book with the quiet resignation of a man who knows his evening has just gotten away from him.
~~~
Three days later, Dick was standing in the fourth-floor hallway of Jason's building for entirely legitimate reasons. He was returning a borrowed book, a book he had bought that very morning for exactly this purpose, but the detail didn't change anything.
The door of the apartment across the hall opened.
The girl who stepped out was carrying two grocery bags that were too heavy for her hands, keys clenched between her teeth, with the focused expression of someone who absolutely refuses to make two trips. She bumped into her doorframe, caught a bag at the last second, blew a strand of hair out of her face, and disappeared toward the elevator without having noticed Dick at all.
Dick didn't move for four seconds.
Then he pulled out his phone and sent a message to the family group chat.
Emergency meeting tonight. Manor. Mandatory.
Tim's reply came first: your definition of emergency?
Then Bruce: .
Then Barbara: Dick no
Then Jason, later: if someone's dead just say so
Dick smiled, pocketed his phone, and slipped the book under Jason's arm when he opened his door.
"Returning this," he said.
Jason looked at the book. Looked at Dick. Looked at the book again, a paperback of a novel he didn't recognize.
"That's not my book."
"That's why I'm returning it. See you tonight."
~~~
There were seven of them around the dining room table, and Dick had prepared a slideshow.
Not a big slideshow. Only five slides. But still.
"I ran into a girl today," he said. "She just moved into Jason's building. Apartment right across from his. She doesn't know anyone in the city yet, she seems nice, and I genuinely think she and Jason-"
"No," said Jason.
"You haven't even heard the rest."
"I've heard enough."
"Jason."
"Dick."
Bruce was staring at the ceiling with the expression of a man who had raised these children of his own free will and was now living with the consequences. Alfred, standing near the door, maintained the professional neutrality of a diplomat in hostile territory.
"All I'm asking," Dick said, "is that we give them a chance to meet. Naturally. Accidentally. Without it being weird."
"Nothing about that sentence is reassuring," said Tim.
"I agree with Drake," said Damian, which made Tim turn to look at him with a mildly panicked expression.
"The plan is simple," Dick continued, having decided to ignore the general atmosphere. "We arrange for situations to come up. Small things. She needs help, Jason's there. Jason needs something, she's there. Neighborly run-ins happen all the time."
"Not that many," said Barbara from her laptop screen, which she had brought and set at the end of the table because she had refused to make the trip but had still wanted to see everyone's faces.
"Slide three," said Dick.
Slide three contained a calendar, color-coded arrows, and the word synergy written in italics.
Silence.
It was Stephanie who spoke first.
"I'm in," she said. "What do we do first?"
Cassandra looked at the slideshow. Looked at Dick, and said:
"That's the stupidest plan I've ever seen."
A pause.
"I'm in too."
~~~
The first incident took place on Tuesday.
Dick's plan was straightforward: Tim would deliver a package to the wrong address, the apartment across from Jason's, meaning hers, which would force a simple, polite hallway interaction and potentially the beginning of a conversation. Tim had agreed reluctantly. Tim had also, that morning, drunk three espressos and decided to optimize the plan.
Which explained why he rang the doorbell carrying a box so large he couldn't see over it, tripped on the threshold when the door opened, and spilled the entire contents, office supplies he had bought at random online to fill the box, across the hallway floor.
There was a stapler. A pencil cup. Approximately two hundred paperclips.
"Oh," said the voice from the other side of the upended box. "Oh, do you want some help?"
"No," Tim said from the floor. "No, I-"
Jason's door opened at the same moment. Jason stepped out in sweatpants and a t-shirt, coffee mug in hand, and took in the scene : Tim on all fours picking up paperclips, and his new neighbor crouched beside him to help.
He took a sip of coffee.
"Need help?" he said.
"No," said Tim.
"Yes," you said, because the box was really very large.
Jason set his mug on the hallway floor, crouched down, and started collecting paperclips. He didn't say a word to Tim for the entire process. Tim had the feeling that was intentional.
"Thank you," you said when the box was full. "I'm your new neighbor across the hall. I moved in last week."
"Jason," said Jason.
He picked up his mug and went back to his door.
"Your brother ?" you asked Tim.
"My… yeah. More or less."
You nodded and disappeared back inside. Tim sent a text to Dick.
Contact made. Context: disaster. Todd was there. He picked up paperclips. That's it.
Dick replied with six fire emojis.
~~~
The second incident took place on Thursday, and it was entirely Stephanie's fault.
Dick's original plan for Thursday was that Stephanie would drop something off at Jason's, run into the neighbor, and strike up a friendly conversation that would organically end with oh you should really meet my brother. Stephanie had listened to this plan carefully, found it boring, and decided to improve it.
The improvement involved getting deliberately stuck in the elevator.
With you inside.
Stephanie's calculation, one that Cassandra had apparently helped develop, was that thirty minutes in a stuck elevator created the kind of forced intimacy that led to confessions, bonds, and eventual mentions of mysterious almost-brothers. It was a calculation that failed to account for the fact that the building's elevators had an alarm button wired directly to a maintenance company, that the maintenance company had a twelve-minute response time, and that twelve minutes in an elevator was too short for intimate revelations but long enough for Stephanie to start running low on air.
"Did you hit the alarm ?" you asked.
"Yes," said Stephanie, who was sweating slightly.
"Are you claustrophobic ?"
"No. Well. Maybe a little."
"Okay. Just breathe. They're usually pretty fast."
You had taken out your phone and were calmly looking something up. Stephanie watched you with an admiration mixed with guilt.
"You're the new neighbor on the fourth floor ?" Stephanie said.
"Yeah."
"Nice building, right ?"
"I mean. A lot of weird stuff has been happening since I moved in."
Stephanie smiled with the innocence of someone who had absolutely nothing to do with the weird stuff in question.
They got out of the elevator eleven minutes later. The maintenance technician looked at them, looked at the elevator, and said he couldn't find anything wrong with it.
"Mystery," said Stephanie.
She sent Dick a text on the subway.
Got acquainted. She's cool. She's also sharper than you think. Warn the others.
Dick replied: in what sense ?
Stephanie replied: in the sense that if we keep this up she's going to figure out something's going on.
~~~
The third incident took place on Saturday, and this time it was Damian who had taken matters into his own hands, which was itself a warning sign no one had anticipated.
Damian had not wanted to participate. Damian had said explicitly, at the manor meeting, that the plan was childish, that Todd was perfectly capable of managing his own romantic life, and that this was all going to end badly. But Damian had also, over the course of the following days, developed a curiosity he refused to name about the neighbor in question, based solely, he told himself, on the fact that he wanted to assess whether she was up to standard.
His plan was simple: he would stop by Jason's under the pretense of borrowing something, leave the door open, and observe.
What he hadn't anticipated was that walking down the hallway he would see you, standing in front of your door, keys in hand, and your cat, a grey cat of concerning size, sitting in the hallway two meters away from you, watching you with total contempt.
"He got out without me noticing," you said, more to yourself than to Damian.
Damian looked at the cat. The cat looked at Damian. There was a silent mutual assessment between them.
"What's his name ?" Damian said.
"Bernard"
Damian crouched down. Held out his hand. Bernard sniffed his fingers, considered, and decided in his favor. He allowed himself to be picked up.
Damian straightened with the cat against his chest, turned to you, and said:
"He lacks discipline."
"Probably."
"Cats without structure develop erratic behaviors."
You looked at him, this boy of about fourteen with a monstrous grey cat in his arms, discussing behavioral structure with the seriousness of a career veterinarian, and said:
"Do you live in the building ?"
"No. My brother does."
"Jason ?"
Damian paused for a quarter of a second. Handed back the cat.
"Possibly," he said.
He knocked on Jason's door, went inside, and sent a message to Dick from the hallway while the door closed behind him.
She has a cat. She's competent in a crisis situation. She asked if I was Todd's brother.
Then, after a second:
She's acceptable.
Dick sent twenty heart emojis. Damian read them and didn't respond.
~~~
Jason, for his part, had developed a fairly clear picture of what was going on.
There had been Tim's package. The elevator incident with Stephanie, which he'd heard about from the building's janitor. Damian's baffling visit, during which he had spent forty minutes staring at Jason's bookshelf without saying anything before leaving. And Dick, who had been calling more often than usual with casual questions that always ended with so how's the building? Nice neighbors?
Jason wasn't an idiot.
What interested him more was why he hadn't said anything.
He had an answer for that too, but it was one he hadn't quite finished putting into words. It looked vaguely like the memory of paperclips on tile, of someone crouching down to pick them up without being asked. Like a voice he'd heard through the wall on Thursday night, singing off-key to something he hadn't recognized. Like the grey cat he'd passed in the hallway once, sitting alone in front of his door as if it were a destination.
Bernard, he'd learned.
He drank his coffee and waited for the next phase of Dick's plan, which was inevitably coming.
~~~
The fourth incident took place on Monday evening and was nobody's fault, which, paradoxically, made it the most effective of the four.
The rain had started around seven. You were coming back from the grocery store, again, two bags, again too heavy, and the elevator was out of service, which this time was a real breakdown and not the work of Stephanie and Cassandra. You climbed four flights. Set the bags down in front of your door. Reached for your keys in your coat, in your bag, in your pockets.
You looked for your keys for five minutes.
You didn't have your keys.
You sat down on your grocery bags in the fourth-floor hallway and looked up at the ceiling with the specific calm of someone who has had a long day and no longer has the energy to be upset about anything.
Jason's door opened.
He looked at you. Looked at the bags. Looked at the complete absence of keys in your hand.
"I probably left them at the grocery store," you said. "Or on the subway. Both are equally possible."
Jason leaned against his doorframe.
"The super can let you in."
"He left at six. I checked."
"The locksmith down the street closes at eight."
"It's eight twenty-two."
Jason looked for a moment at the empty hallway, at the rain audible through the landing windows, at the two grocery bags that clearly contained perishables.
"Come in," he said. "While you call the store."
You looked at him.
"Are you sure ?"
"No," Jason said. "But your yogurt's not going to keep indefinitely in the hallway."
You picked up the bags. Went inside. Set the groceries on the counter while he handed you his phone, the supermarket was in his contacts, for reasons he didn't explain. You called. They had found your keys. You could come pick them up tomorrow morning.
You handed back the phone, deflated. Looked around the apartment : books everywhere, the lamp a little too bright, the window open despite the rain because Jason hadn't thought to close it.
"I'll call my landlord," you said. "She has a spare."
"Does she answer at night ?"
A pause.
"Probably not."
Jason went and closed the window. Came back. Crossed his arms.
"Couch is free," he said. "If she doesn't pick up."
It wasn't a romantic offer. It was said in the same tone he would have used to announce that the weather was going to change, or that the coffee was ready. You heard it exactly that way.
"Okay," you said. "Thank you."
"Have you eaten ?"
"No."
"Me neither."
He opened the fridge, pulled out things at random, and started cooking without ceremony while you settled at the counter with your phone. You didn't talk much. You didn't need to. The rain kept going against the windows, and the kitchen smelled like garlic and thyme, and Bernard, who had managed to escape again, was scratching at the front door from the hallway with the persistence of a creature who knows exactly what it wants.
Jason went to let him in.
The cat entered, inspected the territory, and jumped onto the couch as if it had all been arranged in advance.
~~~
At eleven forty, Dick received a text from Jason.
Canceled movie night. she's still here. landlord not picking up. key situation.
Dick read the message twice. Set down his phone. Crossed his arms. Looked at the ceiling with the expression of a man who had just realized the universe had done more in one evening than he had managed in two weeks.
Damian, sitting across from him, turned a page of his book without looking up.
"We had nothing to do with this," he said.
"No," said Dick.
"It happened on its own."
"Yeah."
"Perhaps some things don't need to be orchestrated," said Damian.
Dick smiled.
"Maybe."
He turned off the lamp, picked up his phone, and went to bed leaving the group chat quiet for the first time in two weeks.
In the apartment on the fourth floor, the rain had settled. Bernard was asleep in a ball on Jason's couch. You had called your landlord, left a message, and fallen asleep in the armchair with a blanket Jason had set there without comment. Jason was reading in the next room, and every now and then he heard your breathing deepen, and he kept still so as not to make any noise.
It wasn't much.
But it was a start.
Taglist: @starrydustedwinter
Thanks for reading my fic. I think I might write about another fandom in addition to this one, but I don't know which one yet. If you have any suggestions, feel free to write them in the comments or send them to me privately.
chapter title: You know Red Hood?
chapter summary: "So how did you meet Red Hood?"
"He…..saved me." Jason says, looking at the blue sky above.
tags and warnings: fluff, original character appears once but is not really important, banter, humour, Theme of hope, lot of overthinking on jason's part, bad chapter summary, red hood has no pictures of himself on the internet (for the fic to make sense)
author's note: Huge thanks to @batwngs for proof reading!!! Also to preface, I’m not an artist. A lot of this is a combination of little research and my imagination ! would love to know your thoughts on this chapter. Reblogs and comments appreciated.
word count: 3687
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Do not fall in love.
It was the first sentence you penned on to the thin paper of your leatherback journal.
Jason had insisted on dropping you to your dorm room instead of hailing a taxi — resulting in your face mushed against the leather of his jacket covering his muscled back, your hands wrapped around his slim waist as smoke and the smell of oil filled your nostrils. Bike rides during the night of Gotham was something you never thought you needed until then, air whipping against your hair as the city lulled itself to sleep.
Maybe it was a little bit of an exaggeration but you needed to remind yourself that working with your crush from the library who was not only fucking hot but also seemed smart, should be nothing else other than a transaction.
He would be your muse for the Red Hood painting. In turn you would draw a portrait of him for no cost.
But doesn't love begin with being the artist of your muse? Being the apple of your eye?
You roll your eyes, slumping against the cushion of your bed. It felt like your heart was working vehemently against your mind. You reminded yourself once again, it was just a crush — an attractive guy who wore leather jackets, had tattoos inked onto his skin and owned a bike was at the same time an avid reader, spending his free time at the library.
All you could do was hope he had a shitty personality. That would make it a lot easier to not fall in love during your finals.
But you had a feeling he didn't. At least based on the way he treated you a few hours back. Groaning, you scream into the pillow.
You were so fucked.
This was dumb.
Jason thinks while walking back and forth, in front of the stone wall composed of handmade patterns of concrete, like that of petals swirled towards the center. He had been here thirty minutes earlier than when you had asked him to.
Jason had been rethinking about the sequence of events that lead him here. Was this even the right decision to cosplay as himself ? Wasn't it endangering his identity?
You would never know but something had Jason pulling towards you. It wasn't uncommon to find girls looking at him when he was at the library but he never worked up the courage to speak to them or rather found any reason to do so. But for you, it seemed like Jason had executed all the knowledge of confidence and flirting passed down to him like a well guarded fortune from his older brother — Dick Grayson (and Brucie Wayne, but he would never say that to anyone).
Lush green trees and bushes sprouting flowers of different colors and sizes lay lined around the premises, college students laugh and giggle while professors wearing long coats talk among themselves about the current state of art in the world.
It was truly a profound experience to visit an university campus since he had never had the opportunity to attend one — even high-school. Students hollered around, giggling and swaying with friends, some running across him to attend classes in different buildings, some chatting with professors about grades and assignments.
How would his life have been had he lived through high-school.
Which university would he have gone to? Hudson like Dick or Ivy like Tim? Or somewhere else entirely?
What would have his major been? English? Medicine? Social Justice?
What would have —
"Hi," your cheery voice, tinged with bouts of excitement, pulls him out of his thoughts. Turning around, his breath hitches in his chest.
There you were, the wind blowing at your hair making you pull the long black coat against your body while your lips were carved into a smile.
You had a beautiful smile —as genuine as the golden sun.
A honk from a nearby car startles him enough to divert his green eyes from your mouth. Clearing his throat, he eases a somewhat of a curve to his lips.
"Hey," his voice a little low, trying to mask his anxiety,"Sorry if I was late."
"Oh no, please you were early," you say, voice dipping a little and eyes sparkling mischievously. "My best friend Zara noticed you walking back and forth for ten minutes straight."
Heat crawls up his neck, his hand rubbing the skin as red blossoms at his cheeks. You grin at how the giant in front of you was blushing.
He looked beautiful.
We're not going to think about that, you try reminding yourself.
"Shall we go in?" you ask, pointing at the glass doors of the building. He nods, joining in your walk.
The interiors of the building were just as beautiful as the exterior — a teakwood front desk that had murals on the wall behind, sculptures made out of various materials put on display in every corner of the space. A blend of the crispy scent from the air conditioners, the tell tale smell of clay and paint and sweet fragrance of perfumes fill in the air.
Your studio was on the first floor, a small enclosed box. Students only in their final year of university could use these small boxes as their own tiny caricature of a studio for a few months. Jason could hear some music playing in the other rooms, while some students in groups painted in a common space . The smell of adhesives and paint was so strong, it blurred his movements just for a second.
You prop open the glass door, a sheet of paper covered in painted sunflowers along the borders and your name written in cursive, pasted at the center. Jason felt like he had stepped into the aftermath of a paintball match — splatters of paint on the floor, canvases inclined against the wall or propped up on easels, pallettes covered in an array of colors, paint tubes and bottles arranged haphazardly across the room.
"Sorry, It's a little messy," a sheepish grin on your face as you trudge a wooden chair for him to sit. "It just kind of happens."
"I get it, I have a younger brother who does art."
It was not really a lie. Damian was an artist but he was also extremely meticulous — his workspace always clean, the only evidence of the previous activity was the newly painted canvas on the easel. But he did not want to make you feel uncomfortable about a mess that was so inherent to most artists.
Jason sinks into the velvet cushion of the chair while you fumble around to get one of your own.
"Do you want some water or anything to eat?" you ask him, holding a water bottle in hand.
"Water works."
"Okay! Give me a minute to get it refilled." You pick up your phone and start walking towards the door, before glancing back at him once. "Feel free to look around in the meantime."
Once you leave, the room feels a lot more empty.
He stands up and walks towards the array of canvases lined along the wall on the other side of the room.
The first one is of Batman — A portrait of the dark knight standing beside a gargoyle, while his cape engulfs him. Two large wings in the color of white sprouts from the back , stretched wide almost giving one the illusion that the wingspan covers the entirety of Gotham since the width of the wings never end in the painting, extending beyond the confines of the rectangular canvas.
The next one is of Batgirl — Ginger hair flowing along the air as her cape stretches out behind her. She stood on the rooftop of a building, the sky a shade of pink. Across from her, in a tiny balcony was a mother holding her daughter nestled against her hips as she points at Barbara, sparkles in her eyes.
Jason could sense the amount of time you had taken for each portrait, focusing on tiny details and symbolism. He knew your project was about the art of vigilantism. When he had heard the title, he assumed it was going to be about iconic moves of Gotham vigilantes or glorious victories but rather you focused on what they brought to the city — Hope.
Hope of justice by making the dark knight an angel with white wings and Batgirl a true inspiration for women and girls in the city. He could see numerous other canvases sporting Batwoman, Orphan, Red Robin and others.
There was one portrait a little larger than the rest, deducing it was possibly the centerpiece of your theme. A large white cloth laid over the top of the canvas, sprinkling curiosity in Jason. His fingertips touch the fabric, on the verge of tugging it to see what laid beneath. Just as he was about to see what was hidden, your voice fills in the air,making him drop the fabric, back stiffening like he was caught doing something he shouldn't.
But he remembered seeing flashes of red and green.
Probably Robin — Damian.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," you hand him the bottle "It took a little more time than expected because of the long line."
He nods taking a sip of the water while you sit back down on the chair. It was the first time you really could take him in without his eyes locked on your form. The small window of your room was wide open, allowing sunlight to flitter and cast on Jason. He was wearing the same leather jacket as a few days back but now paired with a red hoodie while his thick thighs were spread with the material of the cargo pants stretching across the panes of his muscles.
You swallow, at the sight, eyes tracing the tiny water droplets that slip from his mouth, cascading against his throat.
How were you supposed to focus if all your attention could easily be swept away by just him drinking water?
Irritation courses through you — not at him, but at yourself. Your shoulders slump against the teakwood of the chair, closing your eyes in a huff. You were supposed to be professional. He was like any muse you have ever had over the years.
Just a muse.
You reminded yourself that Jason probably had a shitty personality. He should right? No man could be too hot and emotionally mature — at least in your experience.
The clearing of his throat breaks you out of your inner thoughts, realizing you were staring at him during the whole ordeal.
This was the second time it had happened. There's a few minutes of awkward silence before the sound of a clap resounds against the walls. You stand up, hands on your hips, moving to the tiny table in the corner of the room. Wrapped in a brown bag was the red hood's costume — or what you hope it was.
Since there were no pictures of him, and based on details from people who had seen him and a personal testimony from a friend who had encountered the gun totting vigilante , you put together an outfit. You had asked Jason for his sizes and measurements and started working on it immediately.
Sure, it was not entirely necessary for you to create an outfit from scratch but you knew this would show the amount of effort you took to make sure the heroes of the night appeared as they were. While most people knew of their existence not everyone had encountered them and all you wanted was for every person who looked at your paintings to feel what you did — hope for a world that seemed so preemptive in destroying itself.
It took you a week to put together his costume, all while you finished the paintings of Batwing and Spoiler. Sleepless nights and stressful days had almost made you give up several times before pushing yourself through the negative thoughts. It was going to be less grueling the next two weeks since you would have only one painting to be worked on.
"Here's the costume I made," you hand him over the brown bag. "Not really sure how well it resembles Red Hood."
Though you had worked on this for a long time, there was still this undercurrent of anxiety dreading up from the pits of your stomach at the thought of it being in accurate. What if someone who had encountered Red Hood personally visited your exhibit and mentions how far you were from the truth? What if —
"I think you got most of it right," Jason mumbles, taking the black shirt with the red bat symbol etched onto it. He could tell you took inspiration from the one on Batman's as the wings of the bat were curved rather than drawn in a straight line. The fabric felt different under his fingertips, a lot softer than the Kevlar suit but not as soft to make it look like it was something one would wear to sleep.
You made sure to use whatever art and craft techniques you had learnt over the years to make it appear a lot thicker than it actually did. The black tactical pants that laid neatly folded at the bottom was a different shade and had two pockets stitched in. The utility belt was a cheap find in the dollar store, that you later painted to silver.
The hardest part was the mask. Without any reference pictures, all you could do was imagine it was something similar to that of Spoiler's but in red. There was a pair of red striped black combat boots that you mentioned to tread carefully with, since it was rented. Last but not the least was a couple of kneecaps.
"You know Red Hood?" your voice dips low, as you stare at him wide-eyed. How had you missed to ask the man you saw near Crime Alley whether he knew of the vigilante canvassing the premises.
"Yeah," there's a beat of silence as if Jason was repeating the words to himself inside his head, "kind of."
"And you say it's pretty similar?"
"I think he'd be surprised you got it all right?" It was true. Though there were certain changes from his suit, Jason was surprised to see the minute details you could still capture right.
He could see the upturn of your lips, the way your eyes lit up and lips stretched into a bright smile.
It was blinding.
He wanted to make you smile like that.
But he was being too creepy. This was not love.
Jason did not believe in love at first sight, after all.
But maybe this time, he would be proven wrong.
After asking Jason to try it, you wait for him while setting up the backdrop for Red Hood's portrait. Kneeling on the floor, you try slicing one of the par of angel wings, and splatter the broken end with a little bit of red. While you knew the vigilante was a little different from the others, he saved people. Changed lives, especially those around lower Gotham.
The sound of the door opening has you turn your head back, only to almost loose balance. There he stood, wearing the tight black shirt that had the bat emblem stretched across his chest, red mask covering the lower half of his face while the domino mask covers his eyes.
You were not sure whether he looked like Red Hood. He probably did but you knew one thing — he was handsome. There's a slight pause, only your heartbeat resounding in your ears, eyes peering at him while he huffed, trying to mask his laugh.
"I just said that loud, didn't I?"
Jason nods.
You covered your face, heat coursing through your body. You knew he was smiling behind the mask and,in a way you were grateful for the mask covering his face — after all, if you had seen his smile, you probably would have embarrassed yourself even more by spewing comments that were borderline flirty.
Jason was glad there was a mask on his face. Had it not, you would have seen the darkening of his cheeks akin to the color of the very emblem on his shirt. Though he laughs, it doesn't drown out his own heartbeat.
"What do you think? Is it missing anything?"
It was missing a few things and Jason had noticed them. But he did not want to make it too obvious and seem like a stalker of himself.
"No, I think it's —"
A knock on the glass door causes the both of you to swivel your heads towards the source. There stood your classmate — the one who had encountered Red Hood in the flesh. You had mentioned to her about how there was a feeling of anxiety of not getting him right and she had so kindly offered to look at the costume herself to see if anything was missing.
"Hilda, thanks for stopping by." She walks in, standing next to your kneeled form. Her eyes are wide, mouth opening and closing as she eyes Jason. You try to divert her attention from him, knowing any extended staring could cause discomfort to anyone — let alone someone in a costume.
"Hilda," you hiss, grabbing her hand.
"Oh," she turns, hands rubbing her neck. She leans down, whispering "Are you sure you did not ask Red Hood to be your muse?"
You turn to look at Jason. Really look at him. From all your research he did fit the picture of Red Hood, but that was also the very reason you chose him as your muse. After all you asked him the same question when you first met.
"I don't think Red Hood is dumb enough to cosplay as himself," you whisper back, head tilted slightly towards hers.
"I suppose."
Only if you knew.
After Hilda left and Jason changed from the costume, you had essentially dragged him to the university cafeteria. It was already 2 PM — well into lunch and you couldn't leave your muse hungry nor was it good behavior on your part.
The cafeteria in Gotham University was a large one-story building. There were not many people and thus no time lost in waiting in long lines. The smell of greasy hamburgers waft through the place, surrounded by circular tables with chairs that were less than comfortable if you sat for periods of long duration. Clattering of utensils could be heard from the kitchen, the sound of a hiss as a can opens in the nearby table and the gentle murmur accompanied by the occasional shouts fill your ears.
You and Jason sat at the corner of room, near the glass windows as the students walked by. Jason had ordered himself a classic hamburger while you, a small pepperoni pizza. After hours of having your breakfast — a slice of bread coated with nutella — you were extremely hungry to say the least. A pleasant silence envelops the both of you while eating the delicacies on the table.
"So, you are from Gotham?" you ask, now only two slices of the pizza left. You always tried getting to know your muses, in hopes of making each other comfortable.
"Born and brought up," Jason answers, wiping his hands on the tissue. "What 'bout you?"
"Same, but my parents moved to Star City a few years ago." You had just turned eighteen, a sheet of paper stating your scholarship to Gotham University clutched between your fingertips in one hand and the other palm clenched so hard against itself, it took more than minutes for the imprints on your palm to return back to it's original state.
The fight was long time coming — your family wanted to move out of Gotham as soon as possible while you wanted to stay. You remembered your mother saying you were being foolish for holding out hope to meet someone you don't even know. You remember shouting at her that you knew that. You always knew that it was foolish. But you had made a choice — to choose hope.
Just like he had said that day.
"Hey, you okay?" you look up to see emerald eyes locked on yours — soft and warm.
"Yeah, just remembered things." Shaking your head, you take a slice of the pizza. "What do you do for work?"
"I work as a part-time mechanic."
You hum, taking another bite. "And part-time at the library?"
Jason laughs - smooth, deep and genuine. It automatically brings a smile to your lips. You were not sure why you felt this way towards someone you knew only for a few days. It wasn't like you to feel all this for someone you barely knew.
"No, I just like reading." He chuckles again. "You don't right?"
Jason grins like he already knew the answer, which he did.
"Yeah, yeah" you sigh, before your mouth breaks out into a laugh. He was laughing too, sharing a space that was reserved for only a few without even realizing.
How long had it been since he laughed so candidly with someone?
He had a beautiful laugh.
Students across your table turn, sending an annoyed stare at your way as you and Jason try stifling your laughs, though it wasn't successful.
You both decide to leave the cafeteria, to avoid any more stares from distressed students.
"So how did you meet Red Hood?"
Jason stops, his head blank at the question. He can feel your eyes on him, filled with curiosity and wonder.
"He…..saved me."
You could feel it was much deeper than three words. But you decided not to pry further. Silence hangs over like a fluffy cloud as the both of you walk towards the art building. You offer him a smile, trying to ease the mood.
"See you tomorrow?"
He nods.
Maybe this wasn't a dumb idea after all.
General taglist:
for all works: @milkybbun @champagnesbiggestproblem @itachisrealm @batwngs @starr-jazz @arfemiz @goonette5 @currentblasphemy @leovaldez0924 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @asahisimpnation @yearninglustfully @minandras @angelicwing
(if anyone wants be removed while I post the series, you can comment :))
For Jason: @caterppillar @kisses717 @angel-achlys-r
Thank you Dexter Soy for your service in making Jason look so delectable in a world where he looks chopped 70% of the time you’re not drawing him :)
Oneshots:
YOU MELT UP MY BODY AND ALL MY HEART - (I'm going to rewrite this!!) When Jason is sick, his independent nature battles his love for you as you try to take care of him, allowing him to lean on you rather than power through it like he used to. (Fluff)
I FIEND FOR YOUR AFFECTION - Jason has dedicated himself to being a good boyfriend and taking care of you, especially if that includes protecting you from a creepy man when you’re both at a bar with Roy (Fluff)
I AM SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU - Jason Todd might be a man with a tough persona, but when he comes home after long hours of patrol, he doesn’t try to hide how he just wants to melt into your arm (Fluff)
THE PERFECT PAIR - In the quiet moments after a ball, Jason’s PTSD surfaces in a ball of anxiety. Gratefully, you understand him better than he does and help ease the pressure. (Angst)
CAROUSEL - At a royal ball, Jason is unsettled by the selfish culture of the upper classes. Luckily for him, being with you is a welcome comfort. (ROYAL AU)
YOU’RE IN MY HEAD - In the aftermath of the worst argument you and Jason have had, you’re both restless. It takes a moment of vulnerability to finally seek each other out. (Hurt/Comfort)
SILVER LINING - Following an attack that hits too close to home, Jason tries to isolate himself in his misery. Fortunately for him, you find him and soothe the ache in his heart. (Angst)
KNIFE UNDER MY PILLOW - Following a brutal mission against the Scarecrow, you find solace within Jason’s apartment while struggling under the lingering fear toxin. Though, while he takes care of you, the unspoken feelings within your relationship bubble up. (Hurt/Comfort)
Headcanons:
STARS IN THEIR EYES - Some say you can see what people fear of losing the most by seeing what they take photos of. Coincidentally, you and Jason take a lot of pictures of each other. (Fluff)
AGAIN AND AGAIN - (I'm going to rewrite this!!) Jason’s heart aches at every apology you mutter, but when it’s like habit for you to constantly apologise for everything, what does he do? (Fluff)
TELL ME, AM I GOOD ENOUGH? - Jason has long since become desensitised to seeing blood and pain, but nothing can prepare him for how he reacts to seeing you hurt for the first time. (Angst)
FALL DOWN - The cold is all too familiar to Jason. It’s a constant reminder of the worst parts of his past. But he’s come to learn through you that the best way to heal is to find some warmth. (Angst)
MY HEART IS FULL OF DOUBT - Jason is consistently perceived in a bad light, so much so that he struggles to find himself beautiful, much less as art. Though, luckily for him, his lover is an artist and they’re determined to prove him wrong. It just so happens that his back is the perfect canvas to do so. (Fluff)
