Soft hands rested on her cheek as she stared down on the nobles and advisors drown on and on. Two handsome young men by her, one laid his head across her lap, another stood at attention one step below her throne with a sword in hand. A young handmaid stands at the foot of the stairs ready of a single signal of her lady to make a move. Complete control was what Empress Alexandra had, and she was never losing that again.
Crunches filled the room as she gorged herself on fresh fruits on top of freshly baked, and cooled, sourdough bread. "Nadia," the call of her name was what caused the sound to stop as she looked towards her mother, Queen Dasha, a gift from the ones above to her people and kingdom. "Slow, my child, you'll choke, and we can't have that before your wedding." The word wedding seemed to make her smile tighten and forced, putting on a brave face for her young daughter, a mere 18 in age.
Queen Dasha was ruler of Vakar, and wife to King Rigo. Their marriage was what stabilized a declining kingdom, however not all problems ended as violence between nations seem to become more common as the days pass. One Empire seemed especially viscous, Qetia. The Qetia Empire had already conquered many states before this, but in recent years they have gone on a rampage, so in order to prevent any damage to Vakar, the King and Queen sacrificed their own daughter, Nadia, to marry Emperor Ivan. This morning would be her last here, as she and her loyal handmaid, Lira, would be shipped off to Antopolis, the capitol of Qetia.
"Your carriage has arrived. Please try and make this work." her father's voice was gruff, holding no affection for the princess. Queen Dasha just smiled and nodded, taking Nadia's arms her in hands and pulling her up. "Ah- goodbye father," there was only respect in her voice, no love. She waved goodbye as Lira followed behind her and the queen.
Her mother set her up in the carriage, well supervised the servants setting up Nadia. "Now, if you need anything at all, tell Lira. Any type of contact home will surely be intercepted and destroyed as paranoid as the emperor is." A chuckled came out of her throat as she hugged Nadia one last time, "Goodbye my child. Take care."
Thump…Thump….Thump. The wheels of the carriage seem to hit every rock and dent in the road. We were two days into a five-day journey, and all Lira was interested in was the desserts available when we finally got to Antopolis. The snow has been falling exponentially as the days go on, we already had to stop to take out the heavy winter coats and blankets.
The view out the window was magnificent, however. We were ridding passed a frozen over lake surrounded by these enormous trees, a true sight to behold. Staring at such a scene made my thoughts wonder about how my new life would be, until a high-pitched voice cut in again. "Oh! And the chocolate souffle! My lady, aren't you just so excited?"
"Mhhh…I suppose, however I hear my new husband is a womanizer, however, that could take the pressure of me." I needed to plan my actions to make surviving their easier. I did know that the people of Qetia had a deep love for the Empress Mother, Lady Catherine, so it was important that I was able to win her support, although I do suspect she was the one who approved of the marriage. It is said Emperor Ivan was more of a childish puppet while his mother ruled the kingdom as the puppet master. He gets to indulge in his foolish and flamboyant desires, but still gets the privilege of Emperor, it is sickening.
I only had three more days of traveling left and I already could feel the gut-wrenching feeling sinking into my gut.
"Suck it in my princess. " I took a deep breath in as I was laced into my wedding dress. The tailors attempted to make it before I arrived, but they made it two sizes too small. Despite this fact, Lady Tatiana, the lady in waiting for Lady Catherine, demanded I still squeezed into it due to it being expensive to make.
"Lira, is there any way you could take a sewing kit to it? I need to breathe to walk down the aisle!" My voiced lashed out and only got me a glare from Lira. "No, Princess Nadia, this fabric is too expensive for us to get our hands on any extra panels. I suppose you'll just have to starve." The last sentence was drowned in sarcasm, and I could only grimace in response.
Finally, after nearly an hour of shifting it and tying it as tight as possible, I fit. With that the door opened, standing in front of us was Lady Tatiana. She was an older woman, nearly 60 it seemed, with silver hair that glistened when light hit it. She had a permanent snoot on her face, as if looking down on anyone who passed by. "Empress Mother Catherine requests to see the wedding dress as of now. Please follow me." With a quick turn she exited again. Lira turned me around harshly as I stumbled behind the older lady in waiting.
Although I had been in Qetia for about two weeks by this point, I've been restricted to my private wing of the palace, meeting only one of my appointed ladies in waiting, Lady Olga. In result, being able to walk down these grand halls, although very quickly to keep up, was quite a treat! The walls were decorated with famous paintings by Qetia's artists. One artist from Qetia was my favorite when studying art with my governess, his name was Yuri Donskoy. He painted a beautiful landscape of Vakar's royal family palace, my palace.
"We are here. She has been ill these past weeks, so don't be so," she gestured to me, "…don't act like you are from Vakar." I could only nod in response to that as to not risk offense to her. The grand doors made of ornate wood opened for me to enter and closed quickly behind me. Lady Catherine's room was dim and smelt faintly of medicine. I took a quick glance around to see if I could spot her.
"Hm. I am over here." Her voice made me jump. I turned to look at the sitting area where the voice came from. Once I made eye contact, I quickly bowed before her. "Please forgive me Lady Catherine, I did not realize you were there." My eyes glanced up at her, and frankly she looked exhausted. She was always described as this gentle and refreshing Empress, but here she looked as if she could kill me with a single look.
"Well, just come over here. We have much to discuss." I rose quickly and rushed over to sit on the couch across from her. With a single clap a servant came running with tea and some pastries. "As I am sure you have deduced I was the one to pick you to marry my son. I looked at your records you are a supposed smart girl. My son…he is very impulsive and has frivolous desires, as such I have been taking care of the state." Lady Catherine picked up her teacup and slowly took a sip from it. I copied her out of nervousness to be in front of someone with such power over me and the political status of the empire. "I am telling you this only to prepare you to do the same. I chose you specifically due to you having such success in participation in your own kingdom and with such high success in your studies, and due to you being pretty enough to hopefully keep him entertained. Don't take offense if he gets bored and bring another woman, it is inevitable." She took a tart off the dessert tray and then for the first time, truly looked at me. "Mh, you may leave."
I was shocked, I was always told how she was the kindest person in court, but she seemed to have dismissed me without a thought. She never even commented on the dress, just seemed to want to give me on piece of advice before being turned away.
My bow was deep as turned away to leave her chambers. When I fully exited the room, it was now just Lira standing there with a sympathetic smile. We walked back to my quarters in silence, only anxiety stewing in me about my new life.
A (kinda) Yandere fae x human story! I wrote it for my wiring club and might continue it!
Word Count is: 1.2k
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Hmmm hmm hm hmmm~
A low hum seemed to circle around us and the red and white fungi. His horns scratched against my legs as he rambled on about the Faerie who can't seem to leave him alone. His silky black hair fell into perfect placement after I ran my hands through it, his tan skin made my pale one stick out in the dense foliage.
"Brightwood where are you?" A squeaky voice rang out, the groan he let out echoed against the trees that surrounded us. I figured that must be the little girl who followed him around. I will say that I was surprised to hear the name he only gives out to those who he is closest with.
He made it clear long ago that no one but him knew his true name, "Our names have power, to much, not even you can know it." My face instinctively frowned at the last comment, but my mind settled knowing it was for the best. "Looks like it's time to go Brightwood... you know where to find me when you wish to come back."
He frowned when he heard me, anytime I mentioned leaving he claimed I was pushing him away. His chocolate brown eyes met mine, filled with hope and serenity, but the squeaky voice rang out once more, "Brightwood! The court demanded you stay close to me!"
I let out a giggle while his eyes revealed his frustration. He jumps up fast and pushed something into my hand before disappearing into the woods. I unclenched my hands to see a single purple flower crushed in it.
————————————————————————
Hmmm hm hmm hmm~
The simple song came from the birds flapping around my garden. Purple flowers bloomed around my house near the edge of the town, close to the woods. The longing for the woods, for him, never left, but he did- rather, he never came back.
The little sounds coming from the forest, the snapping of sticks, crunching of leaves, and the babbling of water always made me hope that he was right behind me, but he wasn't.
Now, that was nearly ten years ago, a simple teenage dream. I have a grand old fiancé who brings home enough dough to keep my garden growing and me semi-happy.
Dirt soiled my apron as the tiny rocks were raked around with my hands. I dropped seeds into the moist soil. Something whispered against the nape of my neck, my head whipped around but nothing was there. I just sighed and lifted myself from the ground and headed on inside.
All the lights were off which was...strange. I swear they were all on when I went outside. The air flowing through my lungs quickens and my legs felt weak. Something was wrong...
Thump, thump, thump.
Footsteps fall on the floor behind me. My arms felt heavy, my legs refused to move. A soft, warm hand fell on my shoulders. "Hey...what's going on? Why are all the lights off?" relief filled my, I turned to face my fiancé, my arms wrapping around his neck. "Hey Bennet, sorry I guessed I turned them off when I went outside." He simply smiled and ruffled my hair before heading to the bathroom.
Bu-doom, bu-doom, bu-doom. The sounds always come back.
My flowers have gone from blooming into beautiful flowers, into withering buds. The only ones which seem to stay as vibrant as always was those purple lilies that I was given so long ago. With those flowers seem to come sounds, of walking, murmuring, observing. Every time I turn my back I hear them- it.
Bennet is getting concerned, the knives have become duel, my garden tools have gone missing, and if it's dark, he's always around.
"She's becoming unstable that girl. Always jumping and swearing she's hearing things that just creep around the house. Bennet, my sweet boy, me and your father can house you while you get back on your feet, but please find a better woman then that Maine."
Every word seems to echo in my mind, hearing his mother talk about me that way. They were in my house, eating my food, lounging in my garden! "Force them out, make them go away and never come back." Whispers filled my ears, encouraging me to get rid of anyone and everyone around me. I knew I couldn't, my hands twitch and move as I bared a smile.
He left. The house was barren, the pictures that graced the water damaged walls were packed away in boxes, his boxes. The expensive sheets we were given as a present were taken, the engagement ring laid on the, now empty, dresser. He even took my block, not my charging chord, but my BLOCK!
The only thing he left me was a single pillow and my garden...my precious garden. He didn't even leave me the blinds to the window. I could see perfectly the large man standing outside.
He was tall, must be at least six feet tall, maybe seven. His skin dark, as if he lays in the sun all day. Black hair graced his head, never swaying from place. Brown eyes stared deep into my soul. He had pants underneath a long tunic. They were dark green and had a golden trim.
My eyes broke away, it was late, and I must've been tired. I walked back into the bedroom but couldn't bear to lie here alone. Not where I used to feel the most loved. I grabbed a raggedy, old, blanket and my pillow, bringing it out to the living room. I laid down and draped the blanket over me, resting at last.
The first night it was a beautiful bracelet, jades graced the golden band with a simple note laid underneath it. "Only the best for my priya." I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, I mean if someone left it here, then it must be mine! Plus, it seemed expensive, so at least once I went broke, I could sell this.
The second night was a ring. It was big ruby stuck in the middle of a simple band. Just like last time a note, "My mother and father have already been demanding your return, but do not worry my dear, I will make sure you have your time. They did demand that you received this ring however." This one I felt bad to have obtained. A bride was missing her ring, and it broke my heart.
I picked the ring up and went door to door in my neighborhood to see if anyone had lost a ring, but no one had. I kept it off, resting on the cabinets before the door, just in case someone would come looking for it.
The third night came with a beautiful dress. One that was pure white with lace trailing up and around the bodice. The skirt flared out and around...the perfect dress. One more, a note came, but this one was far more threatening. "It is time, you've planted the flowers I gave you, and there for your Mine. I will come to pick you up for the wedding, but it will be sudden an-"
I didn't even finish the note before my vision blacked out and I was carried far, far away.
warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed too hard
You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.
You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.
Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.
“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly.
“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did.
“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”
“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing.
“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”
She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.
Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.
What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear.
What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.
Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.
“Are you okay?” she signs.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it.
You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern.
“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.
“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.
Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”
Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”
Dick paled.
“No.”
Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”
“No.”
You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.
“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”
Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.
“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—”
Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident.
“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him.
“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.
You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”
Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done.
You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.
He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”
“Dick.”
He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes,
He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.
“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.
You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”
Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”
You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically.
Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.
“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”
Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”
Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”
A deadpan from Tim.
“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”
Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”
Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”
Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?”
“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.
“Oh my God.”
He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?
He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.
The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”
The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”
Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.”
Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”
Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”
Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.
“I can’t help you.”
Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.
Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”
“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”
Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”
Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”
Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom.
You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you.
“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.
“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.
He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you.
Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back.
You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”
“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”
He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you.
You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”
The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature.
He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.
“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”
You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”
He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.
He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”
You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”
“Does it still hurt?”
“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.
Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt.
“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following.
“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”
He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”
He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”
You nod, happy to ease his mind.
You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.
You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.
You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.
He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.
“Fucking idiot—”
You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.
“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.
“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”
He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.
You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him.
He scoffs, “It better have been.”
You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”
“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”
You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”
“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly.
You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”
He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”
His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”
You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”
He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”
He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”
“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.
“Dick!”
The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.
He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes.
“Where is he?”
Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding.
Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.
He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”
“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”
But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.
He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.
There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail.
“Really? Really?” Jason shouts.
“It was an accident! It was a fucking—”
He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.
“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”
Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.
Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”
Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”
He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him.
Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”
Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”
“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option.
“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring.
Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to.
“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—”
Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”
“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”
Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”
“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”
“Yeah, of course I did!”
For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body.
The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.
It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more.
“Jason.”
Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption.
You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.
He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.
“I didn’t hit him.”
⭐️ your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch ⭐️
Summary: Three months into your relationship, your boyfriend Jason Todd finds your Red Hood poster. You're mortified. But Jason? Well, you've got his face in your room and your lips on his... truth be told, Jason maybe likes it a little too much that you're a super fan of his.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader
Word count: 5.4k
Warnings/tags: bf!jason, you find jason and RH hot and that crosses some wires. jason takes advantage of your crush (in a hot way), competency kink, cocky jason, identity porn, minor violence, motorcycles, reader has a crush on RH but doesn't know jason is RH so it's a little complicated but NO cheating!! implied sexual content but NO explicit smut.
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Tonight, you're staying at Jason's place. You've only been dating three months, but it's going well enough that you're comfortable enough to stay over. Jason has hinted more than once that you can leave clothes at his place, but you insist on keeping all of your stuff at your apartment, just in case things go south. What's that rule? Six months and you’ll know whether he’s the one? Three months to go, then.
Call you crazy, but you think you might already know. Jason is fantastic and you’re sure you’re in love with him. Not that you're going to tell him that any time soon. But you know enough not to put all of your stock into a three-month relationship. Who knows what secrets Jason Todd might be hiding.
"How come you never invite me to your place?" Jason asks as he pulls up in front of your building. He'd offered to drive you both to his apartment on his motorcycle, and it's officially weird if you refuse him. He might think you're hiding something. And you are. Something mortifying.
"Because you're gonna try to install your special security measures," you say as he locks his bike.
Jason thinks about it, then nods. "Yeah, that's probably true. No, but it's your place. I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't know about."
"I know," you say, going inside and holding the door for him. "But my apartment is smaller than yours.”
"That doesn't matter to me, baby."
When did he get it into his head that he needs to be in your apartment? You go up the stairs with Jason behind you, thinking about how you can excuse not inviting him inside. Except, it’s suspicious if you make him wait outside. Even for Jason, who's about as cagey as they come. He seems to trust you fine, but you have no idea what freak raised him because he's eternally wary of people and unfamiliar places. He also insists on sitting close to the door when you go out to eat. But even he's invited you to his place. Many times now. Maybe you can extend the same favor.
"Fine. You get a quick tour," you say against your better judgment as you get to your door, unlocking it.
"I'm honored, truly." Jason follows you inside. He clicks his tongue, pointing to the lock. "No deadbolt?"
"Jason..."
"I mean, what a beautiful lock on your door," he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. "Y'know what would make it even more beautiful?"
"You being less paranoid?"
"Seventy percent of Gotham break-ins are in residences that have only one lock. Sixty-five percent of them are on—"
You turn around and put your arms around Jason. He automatically puts his arms around your waist and stops talking. His beauty still stuns you: his aquiline nose, his freckles, those bright teal eyes. You get shy at times, flustered and delighted at the fact that this hunk of a man likes you so much.
"I'm extremely attracted to you, despite your raccoon demeanor," you say.
"You'd be the first," Jason says, gaze terribly fond. "I'll shut up now 'bout the statistics."
"No, statistics are hot. Just not when they're about home invasions."
"Point taken. How 'bout stats on Gotham's exports?"
You throw your head back, gasping. "Oh! You fiend. No more, please. I may just ravish you here on the floor!"
Jason bends you back a little, his hand fitting in the center of your back to ease you over. He doesn't do that very often, use his strength and wield you the way he wants, but when he does, you lose your breath. Your pulse quickens as Jason nuzzles your neck.
"This okay?" he asks. You hum an airy yes.
"'M in no rush," he says in your ear. "We can linger. Haven't finished your tour. 'S your room next?"
You straighten so fast, you nearly knock Jason in the teeth. It's only because of his quick reflexes that you don't.
"You can't see my room," you rush out, looking at him with wide eyes.
Jason squints, hands dropping to your sides. "What? Why?"
"Um... because... because my room is a mess."
"So? I don't care. My room looks like a solitary confinement cell."
You raise an eyebrow. Jason clears his throat.
"Well, I mean, it used to. It's better now that I have plants and shit."
"Lack of decor is nowhere near as embarrassing as my room, Jason. Mine is beyond messy. It's filled with half-eaten pizza crusts. And rats. And... slime?"
"Slime, huh? Well, good thing I wore my Doc Martens. I can withstand a little slime."
You sag. "You don't believe me."
Jason smiles and kisses your forehead. "Not particularly, baby. What's the issue, huh? You hiding nudie mags or something?"
You roll your eyes. "Who calls it that, Jay? You sound like Tony Soprano. Just say porn."
"Gracefully choosing to ignore that comment. Look, if y'do have porn, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should feel safe to express and explore your sexuality however you—"
"Oh my God, it's not porn." You cover your face. "Jesus. It's—okay, just come in. If you're gonna break up with me over this, we might as well face it now."
"I'm not gonna break up with you," he says as you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. "Nothing you show me could—"
You swing open the door. Jason trails off as he follows you in, his eyes landing on your 4x6 poster of the Red Hood that's smack middle in the room, taped over your bed.
And then, obviously, one can't miss the Red Hood towel on your computer chair, or the Red Hood mug. And the limited edition Red Hood Bat Burger bobblehead, which was quickly discontinued after some public backlash.
"Wow," Jason says.
You groan and bury your face in your hands. "It's fine. I know it's weird. Just go."
You don’t know how it happened, this accumulation of Red Hood merch. It's not like people aren’t fans of heroes. Plenty of local heroes are revered across the world. You have an online friend from Brazil who has literally all of the Superman collectibles. But Superman is reasonable. Batman is reasonable. Nightwing is common and basically a Gotham staple—you've seen women in Nightwing bikinis.
But Red Hood fans are far and few. Plenty of people think he's a criminal and a borderline villain. Some people, working-class people mostly, adore him. You've heard plenty of wonderful things he's done to turn neighborhoods around, keep people safe, fight The Man. Hell, last week there was a video of him carrying an old woman to the hospital after she fell in the road.
Plus, you get the feeling he's really handsome under that helmet. You're sure he's physically overwhelming, at the very least. You've seen clips of him fighting. Oh boy, can he hold his own.
But if you told the average person on the street that your favorite hero is Red Hood, they'd definitely give you a side eye. You brace yourself for one now.
"Huh," Jason says. "Didn't think you'd be a fan of his. Not really a hero, is he?"
You huff, squaring your shoulders. "He's helped a lot of people. No one actually cares about protecting us except for vigilantes. Red Hood protects innocents. If that takes a little bit of a heavier hand, so be it."
Jason raises his eyebrows. "Didn't know you played fast with morality like that, honey."
"You don't agree?" If this is where your relationship ends, you'd rather it happen sooner than later. "He's implemented a lot of fundamental structures that even Batman hasn't. He's more big-picture than the Bats. So, whatever, okay? If you think I'm nutty for liking Red Hood, then just go now."
You cross your arms and turn away from Jason. It's quiet for a long moment. You're sure it's done; you've just ruined the first relationship you really wanted to make work. But you've been on dates and let it slip that you admire Hood, and plenty of men let you know what an idiot you are to do so. You thought Jason would understand. Maybe not.
But then you feel arms around your stomach. Jason kisses your cheek.
"C'mon," he says chidingly, voice low and sweet in your ear. "Y'think it's that easy to scare me off? We live in Gotham, sweetheart. The only way I'd be worried is if you had someone's head sitting in your fridge. And even then, I'd hear ya out on whose head it is."
You lean into Jason's solid warmth, rubbing your cheek against his scruff like a cat. "I'd have my reasons if I did that."
"Mm, I know it."
You slip out of his grip enough to turn around. Jason's got a coy, little grin on, and you can't figure out why. But you suppose that's better than him leaving because of your local celebrity crush.
"You're really not annoyed?" you ask. "Because if you are, we should hash it out now."
"No, baby, 'm not annoyed." Jason glances at the Red Hood bobblehead. His grin widens, tongue resting between his teeth as he looks at you. You feel hunted, but the glint in Jason’s eye quickly disappears. "I think he does what needs to be done."
"Yeah?"
"Sure. Just surprised, is all. He doesn't seem like your type."
You blink, heart beating faster. "My type? Well, I-I just think he contributes a lot to the city. It's not... I appreciate what he does for Gotham."
"Wait." He tilts his head like he's genuinely trying to figure something out. "D'you have a crush on Hood or something?"
You hesitate, flustered at how quickly Jason picked up on that. How does he do that? "I don't—I mean, I admire him—he's—but I don't even know what he looks like, so—"
Jason's eyes light up, and you know you've made a mistake, just not the one you thought you would. He cups the back of your neck, which always makes you hot and squirmy.
"Oh, you do like him like that. Huh. Didn't know the helmet did it for you. Very interesting news, sweetheart. He doesn't scare ya?"
"No," you say, the word coming out weak. Wires are being crossed in your head between the image of the Red Hood and your boyfriend crowding you in your room and pressing his lips to your neck.
"That's very good to hear," Jason says, and you give in, tugging him over to your bed. He laughs. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
"It's embarrassing," you whine. "The poster was from a friend."
You let Jason climb atop you, permeating your senses with his bulk and his citrusy scent. He carefully keeps his weight off of you, but you wish he'd hold you down. This is exactly why you didn't want to bring Jason over; you don't need your old fantasies of Red Hood getting mixed up with your boyfriend.
"I don't think it's embarrassing," he says, gently taking your leg and crooking it over his hip. "You picturing him right now?"
"Jason!" You thwack his shoulder. You feel it more than he does, probably. He cackles.
"Teasin'," he says, soothing you with a kiss. "But I can get a helmet if you want me to."
You kick him off the bed. "No more tours for you!"
Work runs late a week later, so you're still out by the time eight o'clock rolls around. It's summer time, so it's not the worst thing ever, but you know what Jason would say. Your last message is still unread because Jason works most nights. You’ve chosen not to worry him by telling him you're also working tonight, instead texting him funny Gotham memes.
"Evening."
…Maybe you should've let him know.
You flinch, the voice startling you hard. Red Hood is leaning against the fence surrounding the park you pass by on your way to the bus stop. His arms are crossed, and his biceps bulge underneath his tight black t-shirt. You can't tell from here, but you're sure he must tower over you.
"Oh." Briefly, you wonder if you summoned him somehow after revealing your room to Jason last week. You've lived in Gotham your whole life and you've never run into Hood. The only vigilante you've met is Red Robin, and he's not a talker.
"Hi," you say, a little nervous, a little starstruck.
"Hi," Hood says, letting his arms drop. His posture is easy, but you know better. You know he's here for a reason. "Working tonight?"
You nod. "I just finished. I'm just going to the bus now."
"Pretty late for the bus."
"It's June."
"It's Gotham."
You open your mouth, then close it. Then you open it again. "Um... it's okay. I've done it plenty of times before."
"Plenty of times? Without letting anyone know?"
You wince. "Well, not plenty—"
"Nobody to pick you up?"
You shrug. "No."
"No? Think hard." There's the tiniest edge to his tone.
"I mean, my boyfriend could, hypothetically, but he works nights, so—"
"And you think his job is more important than making sure you're safe? It'd devastate him if something happened to you."
You blink. "I don't—I guess I didn't think of it that way."
Hood shakes his head. Then he pushes himself off of the fence and approaches you. Immediately, your heart rate increases. To be this close to the Red Hood, to have him worry about little old you, scold you for not calling Jason, it's causing a confusing mix of emotions to swirl inside you.
You've thought about how you'd act if you met Red Hood. Maybe ask for an autograph if the opportunity arises. You can't fathom asking him for anything now. He's intimidating. Maybe you are a little afraid, but it's intertwined with other feelings.
You can't see his face but you feel like he doesn't believe you. "Sure?"
You wonder if he can see all of your vitals. Can he see how warm you feel? "Yes, I'm sure. It's just... I'm sort of a fan of you. So it's... it's an experience."
Hood laughs. "Fan? Don't think I have any fans."
You shake your head. "That's not true. I know a few people who like you."
He hums and approaches you slowly. You let him until he's close enough for you to take in his physicality completely. He's a couple inches taller than Jason. Not that it matters. Just an observation.
"'M flattered," he says softly. "But if you're jus' sayin' that 'cause you're a little scared, please don't."
"No, I'm not scared. I trust you, Red Hood."
He folds his arms, stretching his neck to his right shoulder. You catch a sliver of tanned, scarred skin. "So soon?"
"Uh-huh."
"Kinda crazy of ya."
You shrug. "Maybe."
"Hmm. We goin' home?"
"You want to take me home?" you ask, eyes wide.
"Not-not like that. I mean, I can't let ya go home alone."
"No, I know, I just... I didn't think Red Hood made home visits."
"Sometimes." He makes an aborted gesture to touch your cheek with his finger and you swallow hard. Your ears are very hot. You might choke on your spit.
"I didn't know Red Hood would care that much if I went home."
"'Course I do," he says softly. "Your safety is my priority."
"My-?"
"Civilians, I mean," Hood says quickly. "'S why I'm out here patrolling."
"But surely there's people who need you more than me. I'm just some nobody going home from work, I—"
"You're not a nobody. Don't say that," Hood says with so much force, it renders you silent. "Got it?"
You nod. "Okay. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry 'bout. C'mon, I'll take you home, okay?"
You really don't want to bother Jason at this hour. Besides, as far as vigilante escorts go, Hood really isn't the worst choice. Another person might be afraid. A sane person would refuse.
"Yes, I'm okay with that," you say, smiling. "Thank you."
"Sure. My bike is parked down the block."
He walks a little behind you, close enough for you to turn and talk to him, but angled so that nothing can sneak up on you. It's the way Jason walks with you sometimes. You wonder if it's a Gotham thing.
Hood's bike is a cherry red. He lets you type in your address into his GPS. Then he gives you a helmet.
"Safety first," he says. It's the same helmet that Jason wears for his motorcycle. For a second, you swear you can smell his aftershave. Orange blossoms.
Hood gestures for you to get on. He holds the bike steady and it seems like he's going to hold your back to help you onto the bike. But he doesn't touch you, not like Jason does.
"Ever been on a bike before?" he asks when you're on.
"My boyfriend's."
He hums, throwing a leg over and straddling the bike. You blink at the sudden wall of bulk in front of you. "He treat you right, that boyfriend?"
You nod. "He's amazing. I love him."
Hood is silent for a moment, then he clears his throat. "Good. Lady like you deserves to be treated like a princess."
You laugh. "You barely know me. I'm no princess."
"I got a good sense about people. Hold onto me."
You wrap your arms around his waist. He tuts at you.
"Gotta hold me tighter than that. Don't want you flying off. You know better."
You tighten your hold, flustered and speechless. Hood pats your hand.
"There we go. Good listener," he says. "Everything okay back there? You're quiet."
For a second, it sounds like he's teasing you, and your stomach jumps like when Jason teases you. But the Red Hood isn't playful like that, right?
"I'm okay," you say.
"Nervous?"
You shake your head. "No."
"No? Glad you've got so much faith in me."
"I do."
Hood turns on his bike, revving the engine. You squeeze him tighter as he flicks the kickstand up with his foot, pushing off and balancing. He does so effortlessly. Wow.
Hood gets you home quickly. He follows all the traffic laws and doesn't speed. He drives efficiently, like Jason, but he takes it slow on the leans... like Jason. Maybe he can feel how you get nervous on motorcycles.
"This is it?" he asks, slowing down next to your building.
"Yes. Thank you." You wait as Hood stops and gets off first, then helps you off. You take his gloved hand, and he helps you off like it's nothing, bearing most of your weight.
"No more secretly working nights," he tells you. "I'll know."
You don't question it. "Okay. I won't."
"Good. Have a good night."
He starts to mount his bike. You step off the curb, in front of him. Hood stops.
"What's up?" he asks, nodding at you. He addresses you so casually... so familiar.
"Um, I was... do you mind if I ask for your autograph?"
Hood looks at you for a long moment. You lose your nerve and turn around.
"Never mind! Sorry. Good night."
"Hang on."
You turn around. Hood beckons you over with two fingers. You go, eyes widening as he takes off his gloves. He gives them to you. You catch a glimpse of more scars and maybe a silver ring. Jason sometimes wears a silver chain around his neck. It dangles over you when he’s—
"Oh no! Oh my God, you don't have to—"
"Got a bunch." It sounds like he's smiling. "Always nice to meet a fan. Any trouble with that boyfriend, let me know."
You're not sure if you respond, you're so dazed. Hood pulls away from the curb like a bat out of hell, waving at you as he goes.
You're already in bed by the time Jason comes home from work. He comes home earlier than usual, and you're still awake when he crawls into your bed next to you. You've taken down the Red Hood poster, too embarrassed from last week. Jason insists he's going to get you an even bigger poster. You beg him not to.
"How'd you know I was at my place?" you ask, yawning.
"My apartment alarm didn't report anybody entering."
"Still think it's weird that you track who enters your apartment," you say.
"Safety first. You usually don't go to your place unless you're coming home from work. You wouldn't happen to have worked a shift tonight without telling me, would you?"
"Okay, yes, but please don't be mad. I didn't take the bus." You pause before finishing. "Red Hood actually gave me a ride home tonight."
You reach sleepily for Jason's arm. He tucks himself into place behind you, wrapping an arm and a leg around you. He smells like your shampoo.
"Yeah, don't think we aren't done with the conversation about you taking the bus home at night, by the way. Red Hood, huh? Should I be doubly worried then?"
You roll your eyes. "Not on my part. But I was definitely getting a vibe."
"A vibe? Red Hood's got the hots for my girl?"
Jason slips a hand under your shirt to rest on your stomach. He always runs a little cool and it feels good on warm nights like tonight. He doesn't mean anything by it, but desire creeps onto you, slow and thick. You think of the gloves in your dresser.
"It kinda felt like that," you say, a little embarrassed to even admit it. "He, uh, gave me his gloves."
"His gloves?" Jason sounds sleepy. "That's basically a proposal."
You'd never cheat on Jason, obviously, but you've had a crush on the Red Hood since he came to Gotham. Riding on his motorcycle tonight was exhilarating, to say the least. Still, you don't want this to be a thing. Another guy would probably get upset.
But Jason's tone doesn't change. He's still sleepy and peaceful. "'M not. Might have to kick his ass, though."
You laugh at the thought. Jason kneads the soft fat of your stomach. "Something funny?" he asks. "Y'think I can't take him?"
"I know you could," you say, and you mean it, even though you're not sure how well your boyfriend can dodge bullets. "But, I mean, you're too nice for him, Jay. Hood fights dirty when he needs to. You fight fair."
"Wow. So you don't think I could beat Red Hood in a fight. Way to bruise a man's ego, baby." Jason buries his face in the back of your neck in retaliation. You squeal at the tickles.
"I didn't say that!" you say, giggling. "It's a compliment. You're too nice to scrap with him. Ah! Jason, mercy, mercy!"
"So you're saying he's mean?" Jason asks, showing mercy and easing off. He returns to just holding you, leg over yours.
"Not... not to civilians. Not to me. He's just a little rough overall, I think. But he seemed nice."
"Oh my God, you loved it," Jason says, no longer sounding so sleepy. "You loved being on his bike. You loved him being a little rough. This was a dream come true."
"No! No, Jason, it wasn't like that."
"You got the hots for Hood," he sing-songs. "Hood hots, Hood hots!"
"I don't, I don't," you say, shoving your face into your pillow. "Stop. You know you're the only one for me."
Jason hums, pushing himself up so he's on top of you without putting his weight on you. He pets your hip. "Yeah, baby, I know. Don't worry. Not mad. I think it's cute. You got a little flustered around him. No biggie. I trust ya."
You sigh, turning your face to the side. "He was professional."
Jason snorts. "Yeah, he better have been. Pretty lady like you holding onto him."
"I'm sure he helps way prettier ladies in a night," you mumble.
Jason easily rolls you over, so you're facing each other. He tucks you into his chest, an arm and a leg returning to their places around you.
"I seriously doubt it," he says. You can feel his voice vibrate through his chest. "Everyone knows you're the prettiest princess in Gotham, baby."
You hesitate, thinking about Hood. "Princess?"
"Yeah. That okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, that's fine."
Jason makes a noise like he knows something you don't.
Every so often, you really hate living in Gotham. It's usually around a time like this: Scarecrow has broken out of Arkham, and he's causing serious damage. Everyone has been warned to stay inside, and the sky is hazy with fear gas.
You're mostly worried about Jason. He went out a few hours ago and he hasn't texted you since. You asked where he was and called him a dozen times but he didn't respond. You're freaking out.
You're about to go out and look for him, Scarecrow be damned, when suddenly Red Hood is on the balcony of your boyfriend's apartment. How did he avoid tripping the alarm? You go to open the window but he opens it himself.
Shit. Is Hood breaking into Jason's apartment? Who the hell do you call in this situation?
"Hey," he says, voice tight. "Get your bag. We gotta go. Scarecrow and Ivy teamed up and it's bad."
"What? Okay. Oh my God." You jump into action, running into Jason's room to get your stuff. You come back, about to climb out the window, but you stop. He waves you over urgently. You shake your head and take a step back.
"No, I can't go without Jason," you say. "He was supposed to be back by now. What if he's gassed? He hasn't called me."
Hood fidgets, his whole body restless. He looks around, then looks back at you. "I'm sure he's fine. You can call him again when you're—"
"No," you say, staring those glowing white eyes down. "I don't care what authority you might hold, Hood. I'm not leaving Jason. He might come back here and he'll worry if I'm not here. I was going to go look for him."
"Don't do that," he says firmly. "Jesus." He looks at you, rolls his shoulders, then sighs. He shakes his head and grabs his helmet.
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, I didn't wanna do it this way. Shit. Okay."
The latches of his helmet click. And suddenly you have your boyfriend in front of you, dressed like the Red Hood. He drops his helmet on the floor.
Your mouth falls open. "Wh—Jason? What? Are you–you were him the whole time? Are you fucking ser—"
"I know, I'm sorry." He takes your hands. "I'm sorry, honey. I wasn't gonna tell you this way but you're so stubborn, worrying about me and shit. I promise you can yell at me as much as you want after. You can throw stuff, hit me, break up with me, anything you want, just—"
You squeeze his hands. Jason stops his senseless ramble.
"I would never do any of those things," you say. "You don't know me at all if you think I would, Jay. I'm just, y'know, caught off-guard. Apparently, I've had a crush on my boyfriend since he before he became my boyfriend."
He cracks a smile. You roll your eyes.
"And you've been a smug asshole about it this whole time!"
"Kinda," he admits, looking away, and you see how pleased he's been about the whole thing. "I'll make it up to ya."
"Yeah, you better. Where are we going?"
Jason's shoulders slump with relief. You see it in his eyes too.
"You'll go with me?"
"Always," you say.
He takes his helmet, shifting from your boyfriend back to Red Hood. Wow. "Okay. Down the fire escape. We're taking my bike."
Jason puts his helmet back on. You follow him down the fire escape and to where his—Hood's—bike is parked.
"Your bike, huh?" you ask.
"My other bike."
"Uh-huh."
Hood gives you a rebreather and you take off, headed toward the Diamond District. He goes down a ramp and through some pretty fancy gates. Where...?
Concrete walls slide open and Jason pulls into what looks like a lair. Holy shit. He helps you off and you take off your helmet, staring up at a cave ceiling that seems to go on forever.
"Hood," someone growls, startling your gaze back down. Batman is glaring at you. "Why is there a civilian here?"
Jason takes off his helmet. "Yeah, so, this is my girlfriend. She's staying here, and if you try to kick her out, I'm gonna blow up the Batmobile. Cool? Cool."
"Since when do you have a girlf—" begins Red Robin.
"No questions," Jason snaps. "Not one word. Be nice to her or I'll kill you all."
You gasp. Jason turns to you, pulling you closer.
"No, sorry, I wouldn't do that. No deaths. They would recover from my maiming," he says to you, petting your shoulder.
"Not better," you hiss.
He shrugs, smiling. "'M a man of habit. Gonna try to change me now?" He kisses your cheek and you melt like you always do under his affection. Jason leans in and whispers the last part: "You could. I'd let ya."
"Wow," says Spoiler. Is the entire Gotham vigilante taskforce here? "So it's true what they say about married life."
"We aren't married," you say, confused. Jason grunts in annoyance, cradling the small of your back.
"With how he's acting? You might as well be," she says.
"This is so awesome," Nightwing says, full of glee. "Oh, you'll never hear the end of this, Jason."
"Listen, Dickbag—"
"Focus," Batman says. "She can't be here. Take her upstairs and come right back."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Sure, fine. C'mon, baby."
Robin is glaring at you, which kind of makes you want to throw up. But then Black Bat and Spoiler wave at you, and that makes you feel better. You wave back.
"Batman's really mad," you say as Jason leads you upstairs.
"Yeah, that's his default setting. He's been mad for about twenty-five years. He'll get over it. You're gonna meet Alfred next. He's the best."
"Alfred?"
You get to the top of the stairs and step into what looks like a mansion. Wait a minute. You've seen this mansion before. In a magazine...
"Is this Wayne Manor? What the hell, Jason? Am I meeting the Queen of Denmark next?"
"Again, not how I wanted you to find out," he says.
"I'm–I'm not dressed to be in Wayne Manor!"
"Bruce dresses up as a bat every night. Rest assured that you are the most normal person in this house, and none of those freaks downstairs can ever take that away from you."
You frown. "Still..."
"Don't y'trust me?" Jason asks, tapping under your chin. He towers over you, and now you notice that his Red Hood boots are taller than his normal ones. Clever.
"Yeah, I trust you, but—" You stop as Jason herds you against the wall, helmet dangling from his hand. He looks very official with his guns and armored clothing. His black cargo pants are pulled taut around his thighs, outlining how thick they are. It's just now occurring to you how deadly competent your boyfriend is, now that you've learned that the Red Hood was never that far away. Maybe you should be scared but, well, the wires were crossed a while ago.
"I didn't even suspect anything," you say, blinking at him. "You had me completely."
Jason shrugs, eyes half-lidded. You're not mad. He knows it. "Made sure you wouldn't find out. Wanted to find the right time, see how you felt about Hood. And then imagine my surprise when I learn that you've got his face on your wall, and his gloves in your dresser."
"You liked it," you say, lifting your chin, challenging.
Jason leans in, cupping the back of your neck, lips going to your ear. He wedges a knee between yours. "How could I not? You're so pretty, so nice t'me. Y'like me that much? Want me even like that? Tellin' Hood you love me, God—"
Something beeps, loud and shrill, and you jump. Jason just sighs exasperatedly, pulling out his phone and denying the alert.
"You have to go," you say, suddenly guilty you've kept Jason for so long.
"I—" Jason grimaces. "Yeah. I'll be back. We're not done."
You bite the inside of your lip. "I hope not."
Jason kisses you, hot and hard, and then he seems to steel himself, shifting into whatever Gotham needs him to be. He puts his helmet on and brushes your cheek, then disappears down the stairs to the Cave. You lean against the wall, catching your breath.
Could you pretty please write a fanfic with the girls as Cinderella? You choose the characters and it’s fine if you don’t want to
I love your hc’s so much 😍😍😍
A Cinderella Story
Words: 2k
Tags: fluff, a little bit of angst, no beta read, I wrote this at 2 am and it just so happen to fit the prompt
With every step that I took, my heels and balls of my feet burned. My dress was flowing wildly in the wind, which made it hit my legs and made it harder to run. I already had my slippers in my hand to make it easier to run, while I blocked the wind with them.
Behind me, horses neighed and galloped down the forest path. I only had a few more yards to go till I could see the maple tree of my mothers grave. Crows crooned overhead, the very ones that were my friends. I managed to hide behind my mothers grave as the palace-men passed.
I climbed over the large wall of the estate and snuck into the kitchen. I changed into my scullery outfit and hid my blush pink dress with the heels in a chest below the stairs. The next two nights I would return to the festivities, but I couldn’t let my identity known.
“Blossom, we’re home, help us get out of these dresses!” The voice was scratchy as it called for me, a clear sign it was from my stepsister Buttercup. I walked up slowly and met them at the beginning of the main stairway to their bedchambers. “Of course, please Buttercup, Bubbles, follow me.”
I lead them up the stairs, my legs were still aching from the run, but I needed to act the same as always. Buttercup’s black hair was tied up in a black bun that my hands had to take through to undo. Bubble’s hair was no better, it was arranged in an almost sculpture-like way, impossible for me to take down without causing her pain.
“Oh Blossom, you should’ve seen the prince! He was so handsome with his maroon hair and matching eyes!” Bubbles swooned with her high-pitched voice as I finally got her hair down and dress off. “He wouldn’t stop dancing with that one girl! Why would he want a girl like that princess anyway!” Buttercup whined, her voice was starting to recover from the party.
“Well, I had a grand time here. Everything is spick and span now, there shouldn’t be much work for me to do tomorrow…maybe I can join you!” I smiled; my voice was sickeningly sweet as I already knew what the answer would be. “Ha! Like we could ever be seen with you!” The laughter was as bubbly as ever, perfectly fitting her name. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you plenty of work tomorrow.” That voice was almost motherly, but I knew there was a coldness behind it. “Ah, hello Mrs. Bellum. Is there something I need to do?”
Mrs. Bellum married my papa before he died, bringing Bubbles and Buttercup with her. She spoiled her girls but saw me as a pest that would be better served as a maid. “Mh~ no, but you need to head down to your chambers…I don’t wish to see any nuisances tonight.” With a quick nod I ran back downstairs to the kitchen, herring the cackles all the way down.
My room itself was made of stone, with no windows, and one lonely candle on my bedside table. My small twin bed was in the center of the room, with a homemade quilt as my covers. There was a closet in the corner that only housed two outfits, one nightgown, and an extra maid outfit. Lastly there was a bedside table that held my candle and lonely book. I climbed into my bed and let myself fall into a light sleep.
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The next morning was a rough one. They all wanted a large breakfast, as usual, but wanted different things. Bubbles wanted oatmeal with three toasted prices of bread with honey, fruit, and fresh milk. Buttercup wanted three chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream along with honey tea. Mrs. Bellum wanted some plain cream of wheat, with strawberries, blueberries, and apples and a dollop of yogurt. It took me about an hour to prepare, which was not to their liking.
Next, Mrs. Bellum made me tend to the entire vegetable garden, claiming that every weed had to be gone and every vegetable needed to flourish if I wanted to go to the festival. With help from my crow friends, I managed to pick every weed and tend to every plant, but when I asked to go to the festival, all I heard was, “You wish to go to the festival? The festival? Darling your clothes, what would you even wear? No! Go help your sisters get ready.”
I repeated the words my father said to me: “Be nice,” and then what my mother said: “Be good.” Twist after twist and pull after pull, I finally made their hair high enough and their dresses tight enough. “Oh Blossom, another lonely night for you? Well maybe we’ll keep an eye out for a servant boy you could court.” Buttercup hit Bubbles for sharing that. “Now Bubbles, don’t be cruel! No servant boy is ugly enough for that!” Father said be nice, mother said to be good, I repeated once again in my head.
I saw their carriage roll out of the gate as I stood outside. Quickly, I ran down the stairs to the little chest underneath the kitchen stairs. I pulled out my dress and changed quickly. I put the heels on and very slowly climbed over the cold stone wall. I walked to the palace and took my place in the crowd. My red hair was down with a simple rose in my hair. Prince Brick spotted me in no time.
The music started once again, rolling around my body as I was in his arms. He twirled me and picked me up like I weighed nothing, but slowly the clock got closer and closer to midnight. “Please, my princess…do not run tonight.” I smiled and gave him one last kiss on the cheek. My body slipped away from him, and I ran down the stairs of the palace once more.
The guards were quicker this time, but not quick enough. My crows did me a good favor, distracting them just long enough for me to make it over the wall without capture.
Just like the night before, I hid the dress and heels underneath the stairs and helped my stepsisters out of their massive dresses and sculpted hair. Except tonight, I stayed up late fantasizing about the prince and living in his palace full of love. Only in the early hours of the morning did I finally fall asleep.
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I awoke late in the morning to a cold splash of water to the face. I was absolutely drenched. When I finally looked up, I saw Mrs. Bellum, her face as red as the rose from last night. “How…dare you! Why weren’t you up to make our breakfast! To do your chores? Ugh! After the festivities tonight you’ll be in for a beating…in fact I know exactly what I’ll do to you. Now get up! Start helping my girls get ready, cold!”
I nodded my head quickly, backing away from her. She slammed the door closed and I was able to change into my uniform. Every second I was helping them was a Sara stick comment about me waking late. “Oh, woah Blossom, you get to stay home all day and still bother to sleep in, how lazy~” Bubbles whispered into my ear as I was doing her hair.
“Maybe you should just stay in bed all day, you're not worth much else,” she mumbled under her breath. Finally, they left, waving and laughing the entire time. I marched downstairs, changing once more.
This time when I arrived at the palace I stayed for as long as possible. But then I truly thought about it while winding about in my prince’s arms, I needed to stay at the manor. My mother’s grave was there, my father’s as well. Soon the clock started to sing the sound of midnight: ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding. In a panic I escaped Brick’s arms as he reached out for me.
I ran down the stairs, the guards and Prince on my tail. Ding, ding, ding. My feet moved faster than I could think, but then they couldn’t move anymore. They put tar on the stairs. Ding, ding, ding. The end of my dress was covered in tar, my heels stuck. I turned around and saw him, standing there. Everything seemed to slow down.
He walked down the steps one by one, I couldn’t do this, it was too big of a decision! I pulled my feet as hard as I could and I managed to get one show loose, and I ran. I left that other show far behind.
I got to the manor only five minutes before my stepsisters and mother did. I barely managed to get changed. “Ah good, you're ready for your punishment then…” I felt her hand grab on my ear and dragged me up a winding staircase to the tippity top of a high tower. She threw me inside, locking the door with a golden key that barely peaked through the lock. “Now, this will help you understand.”
I lunged towards the door, slamming my entire shoulder into the door. I knew she had been angry, but I was expecting a beating, not an isolation tactic. I continue to bang until I see blood start to stain my dress.
Tears roll down my face as I crawl to the chair by the window. Once I finally rested, I heard something. Jingle jingle…. clomp clomp… The sounds got closer and closer, and soon I could hear the announcement being made to the whole kingdom. “Here thee, here thee the prince is going to every house, demanding to see every lady, mistress, and even all the scullery maids.”
Every few minutes the announcement would stop as they checked a house. Then they would call out again, that the girl was not found. Soon, at the end of a very long dirt road, did they arrive at the manor. Hushed whispers were all I could hear, and then a blood curdling scream, something about a heel. Then an announcement of how that was not the girl. The cycle repeated with my other stepsister, but this time I heard her screaming about a toe.
Maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t notice the maiden sitting up in the tower looking down at them, that I could disappear from this horrible mistake I had made…Just like the rest of my life, I was not that lucky.
A soldier, who was wandering the grounds, spotted me in the tower. We made eye contact, and I sent hand gestures to beg him, to plead with him to not say any such thing about me. He didn’t get the message. Soon the prince, his messenger, and all the soldiers escorting him were staring up at me in my tower.
In a mere instant, there was yelling and stomping coming up the stairs. I lean against the chair, absolutely exhausted from what was happening. My eyes fell shut, but soon strong arms came around my waist. My eyes shoot open; I see his fiery red hair in my face. He runs down the stairs and plops me into his carriage, quickly caressing my face. “I went to every house, looking at every girl’s face looking for my one true love. I could never forget a face as beautiful as yours…”
I feel like she would be the type of person to not realize when she insulted you about being smart, like an oblivious know-it-all. "What do you mean you don't know how to multiple polynomial fractions? It's so easy." And then you have to quietly tell her about how she's the only one to understand.
I think she would say she likes classical music, and then you get into her car and "Sexy Drug" plays automatically.
She genuinely likes going to ballets, and not just because she's trying to say she "Likes the Arts."
She spends most of her nights (If she's not fighting crime), with trying to help Brick with his homework, and trying to get him to relax after dealing with his brothers.
Tiny Headcannon for Brick and his brothers: They purposely go out to do something small, like minor theft, or like public disturbance if they feel like they need more attention from the girls.
Buttercup:
She would be the type of person to carry around a pocketknife with her everywhere but forget about it. Like she'll be going through security for an event, and they'll find the knife, and she'll just be like "oops, let me fly that home."
She would say she likes rock and punk music, and she genuinely does like it, but she's also the one who listens to the classical music.
If she's not asked to go out, she won't. She'll stay inside and bed-rot until it's so bad someone forces her to go out, or she has school.
If she's forced out of her bed, but has nothing to do, then she'll go bother Butch no matter what. He's stealing from Target? Great, she's there with him (and paying after he believes he got away with it)
Headcannon for Butch and his brothers: While they live in the slums, they take great care of themselves and the house. Butch is actually an amazing cook, balancing flavor and health. Brick is very controlling about how the house looks, so it's always clean. Boomer makes sure he doesn't get in the way of his brothers.
Bubbles:
She would be the type of person to lowkey be socially, so amazingly smart, and great at real world problem solving, but absolutely horrible at school. likes, "Guys look! I made a 35 on a test!" When the average was like a 95.
She would like white girl music, but when she's sad or angry, it's just pure acid rock.
Unlike Blossom who's going out ideas are ballet, and unlike Buttercup who just doesn't ever go out, Bubbles likes doing normal teenage things, like the mall, or getting some ice cream!
The only time her and Boomer are separate, is if it's a strictly only family thing, or if he was forced out by his brothers or professor, claiming he's stayed too long. (He has; it's probably been a week since he's went home. He'll be back in 30 minutes, claiming it's a new stay)
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