MIA Ū¶ą§ nineteen libra latina jason todd dear pale pink late night her rafe's angel bambi glitter vanilla flavored ice cream fleetwood mac ocean lover
warnings: minors do not interact, 18+, nicknames (sweetheart, honey, darling, love), praising, dom!kento, breast sucking, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving)
summary: your husband come back home after a long day of work, tired as hell. but instead of going to bed and have some sleep, he chooses to finish some reports and you get to make your husband sleep, one way or another.
[masterlist]
*english is not my first language
a/n: pls lemme know if y'all want a pt. 2!
When you started dating Kento, you thought he'd be the best man you've ever dated. Indeed, he was. He was a gentleman, organized, calm yet funny and talkative when he wanted to. But despite the gentleness of your boyfriend, you noticed something more: he was extremely workaholic.
You're already tired from talking about that to him, "you need to stop working so much", "don't push yourself", but he wouldn't listen. It was something that bothered you, not because he wouldn't have time for you, cause you'd never stay with a guy that wouldn't have time for you, but because you could see the exhaustion under his eyes.
In fact, during the honeymoon and the first months of your marriage, he regulated his sleep routine for you, but eventually he'd restart his 24/7 work schedule.
Today wasn't really different from what you had to get used too. He was at work again, while you're watching some cheesy rom-com, on your bed, to spend some time while you wait him. Then, you hear the soft click of the front door, signing that your husband finally came back home.
His soft steps could be heard from the bedroom, you could notice by the sound that he was getting closer, until the door finally opened, presenting the most sacred figure you could ever see, and you're lucky to see it everyday: your beautiful husband with his dress shirt just enough tight around his torso.
"Good evening, honey..." he starts. Knowing that he'll probably apologize for coming home late, you interrupts him before he can even open his mouth, "I know, sweetheart..." you say.
You taps the spot beside you on the bed, signing for him to sit with you. But he just looks at the mattress under your hand while he loosens his tie, "I can't, love, gotta some work to finish." he says as if it wasn't the most annoying thing in the world, but you manage to keep a cool facade.
"Stop working... you just came back from work...", he shakes his head, unbuttoning his blue dress shirt while turning his back to you, his feet already moving towards the door, and you actually let him walk away to his office.
But you wouldn't let him stay there for too long.
Wondering what you can do to make your husband get out of his natural habitat, you just remembered that... you're literally his wife, so why not act like his wife, hm?
You get up quickly and practically rushes to your closet. Your eyes dart over the options... to be more specific, the lingerie options, then they land on a lilac lacy babydoll, one of kento's favorites. It should work.
In less than half a minute, you're already wearing the babydoll and walks towards his office, purposefully. Your knock on the door is just an warning, not a request.
He knows that you're already in the room, but that doesn't make him take his eyes off the pile of paper in front of him, little did he know that he definitely should look at you...
"Kento." you caress his broad shoulders with your hands, almost massaging him. "Hm?" he hums, still not affected. God, when you two started dating, you noticed he was calm, but you forgot to mention that he's too calm, even when it comes to you in such a domestic moment. "Look at me, stop working." your request is ignored as always, he shakes his head and sighs, "Why do you keep insisting on that?"
"It's almost midnight, sweetheart. You need to sleep. To... relax." you keep caressing him, your right hand moving to his nape so you can caress his scalp. He loves that and immediately tilts his head slightly back, closing his eyes. "What do you want?"
"I want you to look at me, and come back to the bedroom with me." it seems like the caress is working, cause he turns to look up at you, turning the chair towards you as well. You can tell the exact moment he noticed what you're wearing, his eyes got darker. "What is that for? You weren't wearing this..." he tries to mask how it affected him, but his own voice exposes him.
You places your knee between his legs on the seat, now caressing his cheek. "Just wanted to wear something else... Let's go, honey... Stop working. You're so tense..." you can feel his eyes on you before directing your gaze to his. "Do I have any choice?" you know he doesn't, he knows that as well. He sighs before standing up while you turn to get out of the office... then, you feel a soft grip around your wrist.
Your body is pulled to him, then he turns you both around and gently guides you to sit on the chair by your shoulders. Then, both his hands move to the armchairs, his face so close to yours... "Low blow, darling." He whispers, and suddenly, you feel your pride and... whatever you thought you have slipping away from you only by his gaze on you.
"Did you do that because you wanted me to stop working, to sleep or to take you right now? Hm?"
All the words escaped from your mind and you just nods. It was almost ridiculous how he affected you like that. "All the options? Interesting." he leans in closer to your neck, his breath hot against your skin, what makes you shiver. You can feel his face getting closer, but he doesn't touch you, not yet.
"Want to go to the bedroom? Then let's go to the bedroom." He steps back, giving you room so you can stand up, but before your first step, his strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you up as you weight nothing to him. Legs around his waist, arms around his neck, you lay your cheek on his shoulder while he guides you both to the bedroom.
The second you're both inside your room, he pushes you on the nearest wall, still holding you on his arms. His lips meet yours with both a tender and a desperate feeling. Meanwhile, his hands touches you wherever he can, your arms, shoulders, nape, breasts... And he takes more time there than anywhere, squeezing your boobs and massaging it softly, what almost makes you gasp.
After he pulls back to breath, eyes still on you, he carries you to the bed, laying you down gently, so you won't get hurt. The automatic position you're in now is: you, laid on your back with him above you on fours, hands on both sides of the blanket beside your head, while his knees are between your legs.
He doesn't waste time. Immediately, his lips are on your neck, sucking your pulse softly while you caress his nape, eyes closed. How did that happen? Some minutes... maybe seconds ago, he was stressed and focused on his work and now... Well, not something to complain about.
He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbone, then lower and lower, until he reaches your chest through the soft fabric of your lilac babydoll. "You should've called me sooner... If only I knew that I was missing this..." you caress his hair while he pulls one of the lingerie straps down, just enough to free one of your breasts. "I tried. But you shouldn't be so addicted to your work." He looks up, thinks for a moment and... nods.
"You're right, I'm sorry." Then he lowers his mouth on your nipple, kento's tongue circling it hungrily while you arches your back a little. Instead of focusing on one of your tits, his hand finds the forgotten one, squeezing it while he starts sucking you softly, but rough enough to make your panties a little bit damper.
He keeps his worship while looking at your eyes, your legs still wrapped around his waist. With a slow lick on your breast, he pulls his head back, returning to your neck, kissing it while he pulls the left strap down her arms, tugging the fabric down to expose both your breasts to his mercy.
Then, he have his time with you, licking, sucking, kissing your breasts and even caressing it softly. "Oh... honey. So beautiful." He smiles against your skin, now caressing your stomach, a subtle purpose of moving his hand lower and lower, until it reaches your core. He can feel the dampness between your legs, what makes him hums in approvement.
He nips your neck while his fingers find the waistband of your panties, toying with it for a short time. "Can I take it off?" he asks, whispering gently, what makes you open your eyes and chuckles, making him extremely confused. "Obviously you can. I don't know why are you asking this", he sighs. "Someone have to be gentle here." and with that, his fingers hook around your panties' sides, pulling it down your legs and throwing the fabric somewhere else in the room.
Then, he returns to his priority, his hand getting back to your heat. You can feel his fingers moving against you just a little, gliding from you clit to your entrance, what gives you agony and desire for more friction. Unconsciously, you lift your hips and he notices that. "Already eager? Honey... don't do that to me." He smirks. Now, his middle finger and ring finger circles your clit with just the right pressure, to provoke you shivers.
"Kento..." You moans softly, giving him what he wants from you, reaction. He doesn't waste time before slipping both fingers inside you, fucking you slowly with his fingers. He tilts his fingertips to hit the sweet spot inside you, pumping his digits in a steady pace while watching your face, just to make sure you're enjoying this.
The pace is increased, his fingertips pressing against your walls frequently, what makes you even more excited, grabbing the sheets under you two, tilting your head back. You were getting closer, closer and closer, but then... He stops.
"Hm?" You immediately raises your head to look at him "Why did you stop?" He's smirking now, removing his fingers off you, guiding it to his mouth, only to suck it, while he shrugs his shoulders "I wanna do more things to you. You can't come yet.."
"No...? Why?" He shrugs again when he hears that, leaning in to kiss your jaw. "You deserve more..." his voice is rough now, evidencing his need for you. Eyes closed and, for a moment, you just hear the sheets rustling around you, before opening your eyes. You scan the ceiling and the place where Kento should be, - above you - but you just can't find him, until you look down...
He's between your legs and then lays his cheek against your inner thigh, while he looks at you, smiling. He turns his face slightly just to kiss your skin, guiding himself closer and closer to where you need him the most.
His hands hold your thighs, spreading it a little wider before leaning in closer to your core, eyes never leaving yours, what makes you shiver. "I can't believe I'm that lucky..." He starts, before giving you a single slow lick. "Lucky to have you." You smile, since you don't have enough energy to do anything other than accept all the love Kento's giving you now.
š«irthday š¼pecial āāāāā or, jason todd never expected much from you, but you always manage to blow him away.
this will have been the first year that jasonās celebrated his birthday with a long-term partnerāor at least he hopes itās long-term, but thatās beside the point. the point is: is he supposed to do something? is he supposed to expect something?
jason doesnāt want to be that asshole. he doesnāt even know if you know that itās his birthday; heās not one to share. mostly.
so on the way home, he falters outside of a rather cozy bakery. theyāre just opening, the six a.m. scent of fresh bread wafting into the air, and jason sees the cakes on display.
hmm. maybe?
nah, itās not that big of a deal. the last time he had celebrated his birthday with someone that actually cared for himāwell, that was back in his robin days.
heās a big boy now. he doesnāt need to do dumb things like eat a birthday cake on his birthday.
but. he can just imagine the way your eyes crinkle in warm kindness as the two of you eat together. maybe this year he can indulge. it is his birthday.
hmm.
the girl behind the counter almost screams when the infamous red hood stalks into the shop, bypassing the front lock like it wasnāt even there. āiām so sorry,ā she blabbers, eyes widening when the light flickers onto his guns at the wrong angle, āpleaseāplease just take the moneyāi donāt want any troubleāā
jason points at the display case. they just so happen to have a cake with a flavour he knows you like. perfect. āhow much fāthat?ā
the girl shrieks. ādonāt shoot!ā
āthe cake,ā jason enunciates, already tired from a nightās worth of patrol, āthe price?ā then, finally remembering his manners, he tacks on, āplease?ā
the girl trembles from behind the counter, almost hyperventilating. right. this isnāt crime alley or his usual haunts; people are bound to be terrified of the big crime lord who routinely goes head to head with the bats. āyouā¦ā she looks on the verge of tears. jason winces internally. āyou just want the cake?ā
āmhm. how much?ā
āfree,ā she squeaks, āuhm, mr. hood.ā
ājust hoodās fine,ā he waves, tilting his head in such a way that the dim yellow light shines on his bright red helmet. the girl takes a shuddering step back. āthe price.ā
the girlās eyes flicker to the display case that sheās evidently still in the process of setting up. she must be lamenting over the fact that she hasnāt drawn on the glass yet with those liquid chalk markers. āthirty,ā she splutters, and jason canāt even tell if sheās making it up or remembering it.
whatever. it doesnāt matter. āokay. thanks. can i take one?ā
to the girlās credit, jasonās never seen someone pack up a birthday cake so fast before. she hesitates when she glances at the chocolate plaque, reading happy birthday! in cursive, and she looks up at jason warily to see if he has any instructions for her.
he stares back blankly. she holds his gaze for barely two seconds before sheās just shoving the cake inside its box, desperate yet still careful not to deform it. jason respects it; he also wouldnāt want to piss off a crime lord just because the cake heās planning to buy was flattened because of poor handling.
when she hands it over the counter with shaky hands, jason deposits three one-hundred dollars bills into her palm in exchange. she doesnāt even register the money, eyes trained on the cake as jason collects it, probably still reeling at the idea that the red hood was in the shop, buying a birthday cake.
she would find it hilarious, jason thinks, to know that heās buying it for himself.
āhave a good one,ā jason says politely, because he knows when to make up for terrorising innocent ladies. she nods rapidly back, eager for him to leave.
jason smiles behind the hood, shaking his head as he slips back out onto the street. he makes sure to lock the door behind him, just catching the tail-end of a what the fuck as the glass shuts firmly.
he smiles to himself. not a bad run.
now with precious cargo, he has to take the long way home; but he enjoys meandering a little through the streets. itās currently that small window of time where itās neither night nor day, and thereās barely any people outāthe bats have all retired, and crime has taken a pause. itās like everyone has collectively decided to stop and take a breather at this very moment.
thatās the kind of tranquility that jason has floating around him when he slips into your apartment, stashing away his red hood gear in a nearby cavity. you know that your boyfriend often takes a night shift, but you never know what forājasonās yet to gauge your reaction.
but honestly, how many different ways can the iām the red hood conversation even go? thereās either the shriek, call the cops, and force jason to go underground for a millennia after such an embarrassing rejection, or youāre really fucked up in the head and agree to stay with him. neither is a good outcome, jason rationalises.
but all that goes out the window when the door swings open before he can even knock, and your bright smile is welcoming him inside. ājay!ā you exclaim, delighted. ājust in time, just in timeāquick, the ovenās about to go off!ā
āthe what?ā
āthe oven,ā you repeat, still bouncing on your toes, darting back into your apartment as you leave jason bewildered in the doorway. āitās your birthday, isnāt it?ā
jasonās fingers curl around the handle of the cake box behind his back. āyou knew?ā he asks, voice suspiciously dry.
āyour brother texted!ā you call back from the kitchen, making jason almost stumble over his own feet as he kicks off his boots. what? brother? who the fuckā
āheās super nice,ā you say, poking your head out of the kitchen with a smile, instantly making jason relax at the familiar sight, ākind of talkative, definitely secretly a model. just wanted to say hi, because apparently youāve been kind of private?ā
jason hasnāt mentioned you at all. itās been just over a year. god, he shouldāve known that no one finding outāleast of all dickāwas just wishful thinking.
āanyways,ā you continue, undeterred by his silence, ācome in, hurry! i havenāt baked in a while, sorry, but uhāitās chocolate? your brother mentioned that you like chocolate.ā
shit, what does he do with his cake now? throw it back out into the hallway and deal with it later? āsounds good,ā jason calls back, staring at the box in hand. āiāll be right there.ā
what if the box bursts open though? jason doesnāt think thatāll win him brownie points with your neighbours, who are already terrified of the massive man who suddenly appeared on your doorstep one day.
what a conundrum. itās not like jason can bring a cake in when youāve like, prepared something and shit. god, heās gonna be the assholeā
ājay? oh shit, hotā!ā
the box thuds to the ground, completely forgotten, and jasonās almost instantly darting into the kitchen in a split-second, residue adrenaline kicking in as his muscles snap to attention. āwhat happened?ā he demands, appearing by your side. ādid you burn yourself?ā
āif i knew thatās all i needed to get you to move your fat ass then i wouldāve done it sooner,ā you tease, but hold out your rosy hand at him. ājust a bit, but iāll be okay.ā
ārun it under cool water,ā jason orders, ānot cold, you hear me?ā
you sigh, exaggeratedly. āfine, fine. get the cake out of the oven for me then?ā
āonly if you go to the tap right now.ā
āfine!ā you turn away with a huff, but jason can hear your smile even if he canāt hear it. he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he makes sure your hand is being treated under cool running water, before he finally turns to the oven.
he peers inside. it smells absolutely delicious.
Ā āmittens are to the left,ā you call out. jason hums, reaching for them, and gently slipping them onto his hands. theyāre a bit small, but he makes do, and then he reaches into the oven.
anticipation builds inside of him for no good reason, and jason finds himself eagerly looking at the cake to see what it looks like. it looks like any other chocolate cake, except swirls of brown and beige mix together in literally the most delectable marble cake jasonās ever seen.
āshit, babe,ā he breathes, āthis is fucking insane.ā
āsājust a birthday cake,ā you shrug, glancing away shyly, āthought you deserved something nice on your special day. thereās candles in the drawer!ā
ādonāt move,ā jason says, pre-emptively, making you pout. āyouāve still got at least fifteen minutes under the tap.ā
ābut the cake,ā you complain.
he sets it down, tugging off the mittens and slinking over to slip an arm around your waist. āit needs to cool anyways,ā he points out. āmight as well spend some quality time with me in the meantime.ā
you raise an eyebrow. āwith my hand underneath the kitchen tap?ā
he leans in to press his lips to the tip of your nose. āperfect activity to be doing, i say.ā
you smile, shoulder leaning into him as he winds his arm around you. āsure, sure. happy birthday, jason.ā
āthank you,ā he whispers into your crown, closing his eyes momentarily to soak in the whole scene.
god, you were perfect. you smelt like chocolate, warm and smooth and buttery, and you had baked a whole fucking cake for his birthday that he never told you.
shouldnāt you be mad? that he didnāt tell you? isnāt that what boyfriends are supposed to do, tell you their deepest, darkest secrets like the day they were born and the day they died only to come back alive and shit?
jasonās not really good at all this boyfriend stuff. heās just glad he has you, who doesnāt really care about thatāor so he hopes.
but then he smells the absolutely mouth-watering scent of the chocolate marble cake again, and his shoulder decompress. you canāt hate him that much if youāre baking for him at the ripe out of six a.m., right? youāve practically turned yourself into that girl at the bakery, albeit with much less terror from being in jasonās presence.
ājay?ā
he slowly peels open his eyes. āyeah?ā
ādid you,ā you squint up at him cutely, ādid you happen to drop something earlier? i heard a thudāit wasnāt anything important, right?ā
oh shit. the cake. oh shit, if it burst open right on top of your carpetā
āiām just gonna take a look,ā he says, strained, forcing himself to pull away from your very warm, very nice body. āitās nothingāi just, one sec.ā
āoh jason,ā you say fondly, as jason darts out of the kitchen.
ākeep your hand under the water!ā
āyessir,ā you reply, and jason can hear the roll of your eyes in your tone.
the cake didnāt explode. thank god. it is now most definitely deformed though, but thatās okay; jasonās got yours now, better and homemade. now, what to do with this oneā¦
ah, whatever. thatās a problem for future jason. current jason needs to get back into the kitchen, hold you in his arms again, and eat some of that amazing cake you made.
after all, he only has one birthday a year. he should make it count.
so this is one week late, but hey, better late than never, amirite? (coping because school has snowed me down so much that i literally have become demoralised but have this cute jason bday special instead!!!!)
jason todd taglist tagging: @profoundgreenturtle @ohgodimgoungtodie @freythecrazyfae @pleasantlycrazyworld
general taglist tagging: @c4xcocoa @megumisluciouslashes @artificialredd @bbmgirll
Jason and you had met a few months ago in a bookshop. The classics section sat right beside the movie and TV shelves, and thatās where you first noticed him: a man built like a tank, towering and broad, scanning the spines like he was searching for something specific. His dark green eyes flicked to you once, briefly, before returning to the shelves.
You were carrying a couple of DVDs for your collection and a copy of Fleabagās script, and after circling the aisle, you ended up side by side with him.
āYāknow,ā you said lightly, just to break the quiet, ātheyāre making, like, the shittiest adaptation of that book?ā
He froze for a second, fingers still resting on an special edition of Wuthering Heights. Then he glanced at you, quick, almost cautious, like he wasnāt sure if you were actually talking to him.
"What?" His voice was low, almost rough, like it wasnāt used to casual small talk.
"Yeah, they casted the whitest man for Heathcliff. And I mean, Margot Robbie is cool, but not with the vibe of the book."
Jason blinked. āā¦Wait. They cast Margot Robbie as Heathcliff?ā
āWhat? Oh no, no, no. Sheās Cathy, obviously. I justā ugh, I meant heās some random dude, a total Ken-doll type, and then sheās Cathy, and itās justā it doesnāt work. I saw the set photos. Itās a mess.ā
You were already pulling out your phone, scrolling too quickly, words tumbling over each other as you rambled. āHere, look, see? Look at this. Heās supposed to be feral, right? This guy looks like heās about to sell me luxury skincare on Instagram. And the costumesā donāt even get me started on the costumesāā
Jason leaned closer reluctantly, peering at the screen. His face scrunched immediately. āWhat the fuck is that?ā
āRight?ā
āThatās Heathcliff?ā He squinted, then shook his head. āJesus Christ. He looks likeā like a fuckinā finance bro who got lost on the way to a Halloween party.ā
You snorted, covering your mouth. āOh my god, he does.ā
Jason kept staring, brows furrowed in disbelief, but you caught the way his ears were turning a little red, like he wasnāt used to standing this close to strangers. āThis is bullshit. They fuckinā ruined it already. I mean, Heathcliffās supposed to beāā He cut himself off, shaking his head. āNot that.ā
āFeral,ā you supplied. āDangerous. A nightmare, not a heartthrob.ā
āExactly.ā Jason jabbed a finger toward your phone. āNot fuckinā Ryan Seacrest in a waistcoat.ā
You laughed so loud a woman browsing two aisles over glanced your way, which made Jason shift back an inch, shoulders tightening like heād said too much. He cleared his throat. āā¦Sorry. I swear too much.ā
āNo, no,ā you said quickly, still grinning. āPlease donāt stop. I think youāre the only one as mad about this as me.ā
Jason ducked his head at that, lips tugging into the ghost of a smile before he murmured, āā¦Yeah. Guess so.ā
You scrolled to another blurry photo on your phone, words spilling out faster than your brain could organize them. āAnd look at this one, why the hell is she wearing a pastel-blue gown? Cathy is supposed to be climbing through mud and looking like she hasnāt slept in three days, notā¦ attending a royal ball. I mean, what the hell are they even doingāā
Jason leaned in again, closer than before without realizing it, eyes narrowing at the picture. āā¦Thatās not even period accurate.ā
āRight?!ā
āThat looks likeā¦ā He tilted his head, scowling. āFuckinā Bridgerton reject. Did they raid a costume closet?ā
You laughed so hard your phone nearly slipped from your hand. āOh my god, yes. Yes. Thatās exactly what it looks like.ā
Jasonās ears turned pink again. He shifted his weight, shoved his hands in his pockets like he was trying to hide how much he was getting into this. āUnbelievable. Theyāll sell it as, like, a modern take or some bullshit.ā
āThey already said that!ā you blurted, almost too loudly. āI read this whole article, I read too many articles about this shit, but they called it a āfresh romantic retellingā and I nearly threw my laptop out the window. Like, itās not romantic. Itās fucked up. Thatās the point.ā
Jason stared at you for a beat, then shook his head, muttering, āFresh romantic retelling my assā¦ā He let out a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching. āā¦Youāre kinda intense about this, huh?ā
You blinked, realizing how fast youād been talking, heat creeping into your cheeks. āOh. Uh. Yeah. Sorry. I justā¦ get carried away.ā You gestured vaguely with your stack of DVDs. āI have too many opinions.ā
There was a pause, long enough you wondered if youād scared him off, but then Jason nodded once, almost to himself. āā¦Itās not a bad thing.ā
That surprised you. You tilted your head. āItās not?ā
āNah.ā He looked at your DVDs, seizing the chance to redirect the attention off himself. āā¦So, uhā¦ whatād you grab?ā
You glanced down at the cases in your arm. āOh, uh. Some classics. Before Sunrise, because apparently I love pain, and The Mummy because obviously itās perfect cinema, and Pride and Prejudice, the good one, 2005, not the zombie one.ā
Jason blinked and looked at you for a second. "Have you read Pride and Prejudice?"
āNot exactly,ā you admitted, biting your lip. āBut Iāve watched the movie likeā¦ forty times, why?ā
āI love that book,ā he said simply, almost shyly, but with a weight in his voice like it mattered.
Your eyes widened. āWait, you read it?ā
Jason nodded, glancing down at his hands shoved into his pockets. āCouple times. Itāsā¦ one of my favorites.ā
You couldnāt help grinning. āYou? Mister āRyan Seacrest in a waistcoatā? You read Jane Austen for fun?ā
Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. āWhat, big guys canāt like good writing?ā His eyes flicked back to yours, steady now. āThat bookās sharp as hell. Everyone thinks itās some fluffy romance, but itās all about class and family andā¦ all the ways people fuck with each other. Lizzy calling Darcy out? Thatās brutal. Smart as hell.ā
You stared at him, speechless for a beat. āā¦You just described it better than any of my lit professors.ā
Jason shrugged, but his ears were pink again. āGuess I paid attention.ā
āOkay, but listen.ā You held up the DVD like it was sacred. āThe movie. The atmosphere? The score? The way Darcyās hand flexes after he helps Lizzy into the carriage? That tells the whole story in, like, one second. You canāt get that from just reading it.ā
Jason frowned like youād just challenged him to a duel. āYou absolutely can. That hand flex is in the book, just notā¦ spelled out. Itās all in the tension. Austen knew what she was doing.ā
āYeah, but Joe Wright gave us Keira Knightley in a muddy dress and Matthew Macfadyen whispering āI love you, most ardentlyā in the rain. Thatāsāā You gestured helplessly. āThatās cinema, man. Cinema!ā
Jason cracked then, laughing quietly, shaking his head. āYouāre out of your damn mind.ā
āAnd youāre just jealous the movie makes people feel something,ā you teased, nudging his arm with your DVD case.
Jason smirked, though it was small and shy, and you caught the way his green eyes softened when they met yours. āā¦Iāll give you the rain scene. That shit was good.ā
"Indeed it was, thank you very much."
Jason let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and unpracticed, like he didnāt laugh out loud often. He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes darting toward you again, softer this time. āā¦Guess youāve got decent taste.ā
You grinned, still a little breathless from laughing. āGuess you do too, Wuthering Heights guy.ā
He ducked his head, smiling to himself, before mumbling, āā¦Jason.ā
You blinked. āHuh?ā
āMy name. Jason.ā His voice was quiet, almost shy.
āOh.ā You smiled, tucking the DVDs tighter against your chest. āWell, Jasonā¦ pleasure to meet you.ā you told him your name, and his mouth quirked like he was rolling it around in his head.
For a moment it seemed like that was it, two strangers bumping into each other over books and movies. But you didnāt want it to end there, not with how his eyes had lit up talking about Austen. So before your nerves could stop you, you blurted, āActuallyā hey, this is kind of random, but I work at this outdoor cinema thing sometimes. Theyāre doing a screening of Emma next week. The newer one, the funny one. You should come.ā
Jason blinked, caught off guard. āOutdoorā¦ cinema?ā
āYeah!ā You nodded too fast, words tumbling over each other. āItās in the park, they hang this huge white sheet between two trees, string up fairy lights, sell popcorn for like a dollar. Itās cheesy as hell, but in the best way. Iāll be working the projector, but, uh, you could just, yāknowā¦ show up. Watch.ā
Jasonās brows furrowed a little, like he wasnāt sure if you were joking, but there was curiosity in his eyes. āā¦Emma, huh?ā
āDonāt roll your eyes,ā you shot back quickly, pointing at him with the corner of your DVD case. āItās hilarious, actually. And stylish. And Anya Taylor-Joy owns the role. Youāll like it. Promise.ā
He looked down, shifting on his feet, hands still shoved in his jacket pockets. Then, quietly, āIāve read that one too.ā
You froze, then laughed in disbelief. āOf course you have.ā
That earned you another real smile, small but warm, and he shook his head. āā¦Maybe Iāll check it out.ā
āGood.ā You tried to sound casual, though your heart was hammering. āIāll sneak you the good popcorn. Perks of knowing the projector girl.ā
Jason gave you a look then, still shy, but steadier, like he wanted to keep the conversation going even though neither of you had an excuse to stay in the aisle anymore. āā¦You sure you donāt just want someone to rant at about costumes?ā
You grinned. āThat too.ā
masterlist a/n ā this was suppose to be a short thing, but i got carried away a little bit. i'm not the biggest fan of writing romantic stuff for jason, BUT this idea was too cute and as a film and literature student girlie myself i am very passionate about the shitty adaptation of wuthering heights.
prompt: where when your eyes meet his, your mind goes blank with nothing but how much you lovingly adore every detail of the rugged, broken man who wakes up next to you every day. or, when jason admires back.
a/n: i'm back! i know i really really disappeared this time, but tbh, i felt absolutely no inspiration at all, i couldn't write one line without thinking it was awful, but i really like this one, it's one of my personal favorites, and i hope you enjoy reading just as much as i liked to write it, it's just the sweetest fluffest cutest thing ever, and has one my fav things ever, green eyes jason
english is not my first language
Even on the quietest nights, like a thursday night when he chose to hang with you, the streets were calm, at least for gotham, and the couch felt extra comfortable, his chest was like a cloud under your head after a day that was too exhaustive for someone who only had time for a cup of coffee before having to run off to work.
An old movie was playing on the tv, the movie sounding like background noise, because now, there, in the calm of your apartment, with his arms around you, your head on his chest and you curled up together, all you could think about was how you could have been so lucky. Jason was like the universe had decided to reward you for a bad childhood with the best thing that could have happened, with the person who understood you the most. And when your eyes met his focused face in the black and white scenes on the screen, everything seemed worse, because now your little head was empty, nothing but nonsense was going through it, it was just him.
Your eyes never got tired of admiring him, night after night going to sleep next to him, and before closing your eyes, knowing that the dreams would be good, because it was his arms around your waist.
And, damn, you could only think nonsense in moments like this, because his hands lovingly caressing the exposed skin of your waist always made you wander.
The laugh got out before you could hold it back, at the silly thought that crossed your mind, his eyes focusing on you almost at the same instant, mostly because it was a tragic point in the movie, the main love interest was dying or something, you stopped watching about forty minutes in when you got lost in how green his eyes were.
His confused expression stared at you with a silly smile, because your laugh would never stop being interesting to him.
"I was thinking about something so silly, did you know that sometimes I still get nervous when I see you? Like a teenager girl or something."
And of course she wasn't going to say that happened all the time, because in her eyes, every detail of him was angelic. "Like, it's stupid, but I can't help myself when you get close to me." She smiles through her laughter, which only brings a bigger smile to his face. "Jay, it's like my tongue goes numb, sounds like 'bleh-blah-bleh'."
"Oh, stop, I'm getting flustered," he teases, as he plays with your hair in such a nice way that it makes you want to sink deeper and deeper into his chest, until you two merge into one.
"No, stop, I'm serious, I might change your contact to 'don't leave me alone,'" she teased, laughing as she shifted so she was on top of him, your faces pressed together as she leaned in for a gentle kiss, you two only separating when the the air seemed to disappear from your lungs.
"I'm starting to think you're only with me for kisses," you hear him say, your face less than inches away, an arrogant grin on his face that you knew was anything but truly arrogant.
"Maybe, I might have started because of the kisses, but who knows, maybe I'll stick for the content." You smile almost against his lips, stealing a cheeky kiss, pulling away with your head tilted slightly to the side, as if you were analyzing him. "Nah, just the kisses." your voice comes out as if, at that same moment, he wasn't everything that was on your mind.
He rolls his bright green eyes playfully, turning you around so easily, as if you were a doll. You didn't think you were heavy, but he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, and that always left your cheeks burning.
He starts leaving kisses all over your face, intentionally tickling you in the process, your laughter quickly filling the room. "Then I better make it worth it, huh?" And there, all that was going through your head was how much you loved this man.
On a sunday afternoon that you two optionally spent hidden in jason's favorite bookstore, it was a small, cozy place, downtown, but hidden enough for only locals to frequent, the bookstore's coffee was terrible, but the friendly old man who always tried to convince you to buy dostoevsky, even if you had already read it a thousand times, and the warm atmosphere made it worth it.
Jason was sitting on one of the couches tucked away in the back of the bookstore, you two having been there so many times that you had already memorized the path to the comfy couch behind the sci-fi slash period romance section.
You were walking nearby, down the fantasy aisle, as if you hadn't seen each of those books twenty times and read at least half of them, coming back with a book that had everything to be horrible, but you were more than willing to risk it, and finding your boyfriend lost in the reading (thirtieth rereading) of some Jane Austen classic, his green eyes scanning the page, his leather jacket placed next to him on the couch as if he were saving your seat, his hair slightly messy, and a little wet from the snow that was now starting to melt, thanks to the heater, older than safer in the place.
And he looked so comfortable, like he belonged there, and like you belonged right next to him, that again, your mind forgot about the maybe traumatic fantasy book in your hand, and everything else as your eyes focused on the figure sitting in front of you, too focused on the book to notice his girlfriend leaning against a bookshelf staring at him with hearts in her eyes.
After a while, you recovered from the fog that take over your mind every time you stared too much at your boyfriend's sinfully handsome features, and slowly walked to the couch, as if you hadn't spent the last five minutes staring at him like a lovesick teenager.
He pulled his jacket almost without thinking when you arrived, placing it over your shoulders and waiting for you to settle down next to him, you settled down, you read for the rest of the afternoon, he noticed your stolen glances in his direction here and there, he didn't say anything, you knew he had seen you staring at him like a fool, you didn't say anything.
On a surprisingly calm monday morning, you were enjoying your few days off, and the even more limited, days that coincided with Jason's day off from patrol. At nine in the morning, when he got up (after you had turned off his alarm so he could sleep more, knowing how tiring the last night was), he found you in the kitchen, wearing an oversized band t-shirt that you had stolen from his things, and an apron that originally said 'Kiss the Cook', gifted to him as a joke by his brothers. After Dick found him making brownies (which you had taught him), they wouldn't leave him alone for a week, and in retaliation, he corrected the apron to a humorous 'Kill the Cook' with a red fabric pen, which caused more bleeding than writing, leaving the letters L bloodier than expected. You thought the apron was hilarious, and since then you always wore it to cook.
He was leaning against the kitchen door, silent, only wearing his sweatpants, because last night was especially warm, Gotham's summer was always like a tease straight from hell, you were so focused on fervently mix the bowl full of cookie dough in your hands, that you didn't even notice him leaning against the door, just as you didn't notice the flour on your face, and covering a part of your shirt.
Your distraction gave him more than enough time for him to admire you this time, your hair messy from the long night of sleep, your flour-stained clothes, your flour-stained face, contorted and focused on stirring the heavy dough in your hand, because of course you didn't pick up the mixer, anyone else would have said you were a mess, but, God, you looked magnificent in his eyes, his shirt on you making something warm squirm in his chest, a smile taking over his face, because, how did he get so lucky?
He finally moved himself away from the kitchen door, his eyes still glued to you as he silently walked towards you, his head resting on your shoulder and giving you a slight surprise, which only made his smirk grow.
"You're baking cookies at nine in the morning on a monday?" he asks, his voice still thick with sleep.
Her previously focused face lit up the second his voice rang out "I remembered you saying you missed my cookies, I couldn't let that go" she smiled, turning her head to give him a sweet kiss on the lips, spiderman style, since his head was still on her shoulder and she had to turn her head slightly upside down.
"See, you keep proving that you're only here for my kisses," he says playfully, still on her lips, before pulling away from the kiss and her shoulder and taking his place leaning against the counter next to her, scrambling any coherent thoughts she might have.
"I never denied it," she shrugged with a small smile, placing the container in his hands and gesturing for him to start stirring as she walked away to look for the vanilla extract.
"You know, now I understand what you meant," he says, making her eyes meet his curiously, a slight 'hmm' murmured in a doubtful tone as she turns to open a cabinet, and coincidentally hide the blush that has taken over her face. "What do you mean, Jay?" She asks vaguely, trying to think of anything else to chase away the blush, and again, failing, because her head was full of 'jason jason jason', as it happened every time.
"I'll be honest, looking at you got me thinking nonsense," he says, his voice husky as he slowly mix the cookie dough. "It's like cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in," he says, a smile on his face that says it all, shows it all, how madly in love he is with her. And when she turns around, no vanilla extract in her hand, a blush on her cheeks, and a smile that says exactly the same thing, he knows she's the one.
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!readerĀ
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 youāll know whether heās the one? Three months to go, then.
Call you crazy, but you think you might already know. Jason is fantastic and youāre sure youāre 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.ā
"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, itās 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.Ā
"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 onā"
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 youā"
"Oh my God, it's not porn." You cover your face. "Jesus. It'sāokay, 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 couldā"
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 donāt know how it happened, this accumulation of Red Hood merch. It's not like people arenāt 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 stapleāyou'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.Ā
"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 Jasonās 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 blink, flustered at how quickly Jason picked up on that. How does he do that? "I don'tāI mean, I admire himāhe'sābut I don't even know what he looks like, soā"
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. Youāve chosen not to worry him by telling him you're also working tonight, instead texting him funny Gotham memes.
"Evening."
ā¦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 plentyā"
"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, soā"
"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'tāI 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, Iā"
"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 heāsā
"Oh no! Oh my God, you don't have toā"
"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'reā"
"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.Ā
Your mouth falls open. "WhāJason? What? Are youāyou were him the whole time? Are you fucking serā"
"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, justā"
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.Ā
"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 hisāHood'sābike 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 girlfā" 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, Dickbagā"
"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'māI'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, butā" 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, Godā"
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.
"Iā" 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.
summary: Reader works for a private forensic investigation firm but when it gets bought by Penguin she turns to Red Hood for help
wc: 5.1k
a/n: decided to scrap the smutty part last minute so if it feels weird that's why
warnings: forensic psychologist! reader, fem!reader, mentions of death, guns, violence, etc. making out and implied sex (aka a badly cut to black scene), mentions of a plan b. Unedited as per usual lol
You found yourself in a dangerous situation; your boss' new boss was none other than Penguin, another one of Gotham's infamous crime lords. And you wanted nothing more but to leave, this is not what you signed up for. It was not your fault that he decided to buy the organization you were working for. There was an implicit "no one gets to quit and walk away with their life" rule since you handled sensitive information and someone in your office already got killed. Essentially, you and the very reduced number of co-workers handled every investigation and background check he needed done. The air was tense in the office, it wasn't a private forensic investigation firm that mostly worked with law firms or the occasional rich family. Now he used you to find information on anyone he suspected or even tell him if his own people were betraying him. It was sick. You used to handle interviews, given you had a natural talent to read people, and years of studies in profiling.
It was a relief when you finally got a hold of someone who could help you in your situation, Red Hood. Or rather, he got a hold of you first, he needed information which you were more than happy to talk. Cops weren't going to be of much help since he had some on his payroll, and you'd likely end up dead before getting to make a statement. So in Gotham, your next best option-- or let's be honest, the best-- was a vigilante who was dead set on screwing the man who's making your life a living hell.Ā Ā The worst part was giving him information in a way that couldn't be specifically traced back to you, like where to find his accountant. You did notice he hired a new one two days after you told Hood about him, and couldn't bear the thought of being the reason he was dead.
You had fallen into some sense of partnership, maybe even friendship, with the masked vigilante and former crime lord himself. Maybe it was the, probably empty, promises that he'd stop that more people get hurt, or that once he's done with Cobblepot, you'd be able to move away and disappear completely. The fact you could tell that he was around your age, even if you had never seen his face, how he always treated you with respect and seemed to genuinely care about your safety made you develop some type of affection towards him. At that moment, he was the only reassuring thing in your life.
But you were foolish to think you could balance working for Penguin and being Red Hood's informant without anyone finding out, until you walked in your shared office. You go quiet at the scene; you drop the disposable coffee tray so both your hands can cover your mouth even if no noise could come out of it. Tears are fast to cloud your vision as you watch the bodies of all of your coworkers lying there. All of them killed with a clean single head shot, some fell at their desk, blood dripping from the paperwork to the carpeted floor. Your boss was on the floor of her separated office, the glass wall that divided her space was broken by the bullets. You were saved by pure chance, just because it was your turn to do the coffee run. A choked sob escapes in the dead quiet, and only when you hear steps do you realize that whoever did this might still be there. You think about running out the door, but what would you after? you needed something to use as leverage. You decide to grab the external hard drive from your boss' desk and make a run for it. It has everything, from emails to transcripts of interviews, crime scene analysis, and even contact and financial information of at least a dozen of Gotham's richest and more of Penguin's people. You bite your lip, holding back the need to puke when you see the body on the floor, her death seemed to be more brutal than the rest. Peeling your eyes off the gruesome scene, you kneel to the safe, trying to remember the combination amid all the fear and trying to hurry. 57, 89, 23, you let out a sigh of relief when you got it right on the first try. Your boss had only mentioned it once, that she needed you to empty it in case anything went wrong. She only confided the password in you a week after Cobblepot showed up.
The first thing you see is money, probably to hide the more valuable things behind. You are shocked to find a revolver inside too but take it with you, just in case. Not that you knew how to use it. Finally, the hard drive was well hidden under a necklace in a jewelry box. You throw everything inside your purse and close the safe before leaving and don't look back as you run as fast as your legs allow you into the street. You make it to five streets before you catch a cab and go home. Not your safest option, but your judgment was very disturbed given the circumstances. Once inside the car, you frantically search for your phone to call him. He picks up after the first ring, he always does, no matter how busy he might be.
"Hey, uhm, something happened" You try to keep it vague since the driver was listening "Can you meet me at my place?"
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"Yes, uhm..." You sniff before continuing: "I got fired"
"I see, are you alone?"
"No, can you hurry?" He knows something must've shaken you pretty badly to call him crying like this. You've never cried in front of him before, he's almost too shocked to react.
The driver only gives you a sympathetic look in the rear view mirror, and you're grateful he's not chatty. Jason is in your apartment before you even get there, and you can tell he's worried too by the way his words lost their usual cool. Normally, he's sharp, calculating, and even witty when he's in a good mood, but today he's spitting question after question. And he's even holding your shoulders tightly, he's never done that before. You barely brushed arms or hands once or twice, you figured he liked his space or didn't like being touched.
"They are dead," Is all you could manage to say between sobs "it's my fault"
"You didn't pull the trigger, you didn't give the order to kill them" He tries to reason with you, to make you pull it together. Partially because he needs it to work his case, partially because --and he wouldn't admit it out loud-- he's fond of you.
"Might as well have, they're dead because what I did" You ramble "Just like that accountant I told you. He suspected all of us so he-"
"We have no way of knowing that, Cobblepot gets rid of his employees after a while" He tries grounding you "like that guy, I got to him and he was already dead"
"Really?"
"Yes, why don't you tell me what you saw?" You start shaking your head no, and his grip tightens, forcing you to look up at him. "You've analyzed crime scenes before, I need you to do it now"
"I don't do that, I just do profiles and interviews and shit" You argue, even though you've worked long enough to know how to do it."I've only read crime scene reports"
"Get a grip" He demands. His tone is too serious, that combined with how it feels like he's lifting your feet off the ground with no effort are enough reasons to knock the fight out of you.
"Three people, at least two of them professionals" You sniff, remembering the horrifying scene. You recognized the wound as soon as you saw it, and from their positions, you knew they were quick and ambushed them. That's why some of them were still sitting on their desks, and only one fell on the floor, who likely got up and failed to run away. "they- they used silencers,"
"What about the third person?"
"They used a different gun," tears start to fall down your eyes again, remembering how your boss' face was unrecognizable. "They shot my boss, I think she was the last one, and she was shot from much closer"
"Anything else?"
"God, her face, it was-" When your eyes drift off and find the spots of blood on your cuff, he can tell there's another episode of being unable to speak and choking on your own tears. He knows the feeling all too well. "What if they are after me next?"
"It's okay, I'll keep you safe" He pulls you against his chest. Despite the surprise, you accept the hug, pressing your cheek against his leather jacket as you decide to trust his promise. "I told you I protect my people"
You're lucky he can't see how flustered that made you, or the wave of confusion that comes after that. How can you be feeling like this in this moment? You just nod in response.
"There's one more thing, I emptied the safe and took a hard drive with me"
"Which has?" He encourages you to go on.
"Everything, every case, email, picture, anything we ever worked with"
"Good girl," He whispers, and again, your heart is doing somersaults and cartwheels inside your chest. Is he even aware of what he's doing? You're too vulnerable for this right now. "I have to get you out of here before they realize they missed someone and lost that drive"
"What? No" You lift your head off his chest, pushing him away to get some distance. He mourned the loss of your warmth for a split second before he argued back.
"Yes, you said they were pros, do you really think they're not looking for you already?" He sounds exasperated, as if he couldn't afford to waste the time it'd take to convince you. The way your lip trembles and tears start streaming down your face once more makes him feel like the biggest asshole. Jason's been called every possible insult, but can't tell why this hurts way more. "Sorry, I'm a jerk"
"No, you're right" You wipe your tears, this was not the moment to act impulsively. Besides, if there was someone who knew how to handle situations like this, it'd be him.
"You'll stay with me until this dies down," His hand reaches your wrist and drags you a step closer to him. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was dying to hold your hand. You found yourself nodding along as he spoke: "I'll take care of everything"
"Okay"
"I need your phone, and your wallet" He requests, and you were opening your mouth to ask why when he tells you the reason "and help me make a mess, it needs to look like you were taken from home"
"But my friends, and my family, they have to know-" Your eyes move slowly to the purse where the things he asked for were.
"You can't tell anyone, it's too dangerous" He's deadly serious, it's starting to scare you. Yeah, you understood that this was the type of thing that'd put someone under witness protection, but couldn't you at least tell your mom you weren't dead? "Understood?"
You agree, putting all your trust in him. He cracks the screen of your phone and you wince, you were lucky you had made backups recently. You reluctantly help him make your apartment look like someone was looking for something. Your coffee table is knocked over, every single drawer in your kitchen is opened, and some plates and glasses are broken too. Your clothes were scattered all over your room, and even some of your decorative pillows were torn to pieces. Though you'd never admit trashing your apartment would feel so satisfying. It all helped when a few days later a friend filed a missing person report and your apartment was now a crime scene under investigation throwing off both the GCPD and Penguin's people. You don't know if trusting him this much was even more reckless than staying in your apartment on your own, but you'd make peace with it over time.
You'd admit you were a horrible guest for the first week. Once you found out the drive was encrypted and neither of you could access it, it dawned on you how you may need to stay for longer than you initially thought. The guilt of being saved only because you lost a game of rock paper scissors and you had to go buy coffee, and how people who know you must be worried and can do nothing to let them know you're alive and okay without risking their safety too, all weigh on you. So for that first week, you barely left your room, he understood and didn't invade your space. However, you would wake up sometimes to a glass of water on your nightstand, or he'd knock on your door to leave you something to eat, which you'd only take a few bites of. One night, he even held your hair while you threw up over the toilet. Brought you a glass of water and let you sob on his chest while rubbing your back for as long as you needed. Once the initial depression wore down, then came the second stage of dealing with a problem, doing absolutely everything you can to avoid it.
But you'd get a lot of time to make up for it now that you were off the grid and not allowed to leave his place. Not that you minded, it was a big apartment; actually, he told you it was two apartments which heĀ bought and remodeled into one. Lucky for you, since that meant you had your own room and bathroom. You didn't take Red Hood for an interior decorator, but the place was surprisingly cozy, despite the concerning amount of weapons he had hanging on the walls. He had a brown leather couchāeasiest material to wipe blood off, he'd sayā and a huge unorganized bookshelf. One afternoon, you took it upon yourself to put the books in alphabetical order by the name of their author. If his eyes weren't hidden under a mask, you'd think he was tearing up by the way he had to clear his throat to thank you. Speaking of his eyes, he took the helmet off when you arrived, you instantly looked away to protect his identityāwhich he found adorable. When he told you it was okay, and you turned to see he wore another mask under the helmet you scoffed and called him paranoid. Only to hide that what you really thought was "Oh great, of course he's hot"
His kitchen was big, you could happily dance around as you cooked or baked, which you picked up as a hobby. You also found out he had an impressive vinyl collection, so you always listened to that. He even bought some records you liked considering he cut off your access to the internet entirely and that was your only way to listen to music. You understood why, but it didn't mean you weren't bored out of your mind. But however bored you were, it didn't erase the fact that for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like yourself again.
He had been trying to be as nice to you as you were to him. Coming back home to home cooked meals was something he hadn't experienced in years, so more often than not, he'd grab a big bite nearly to the point of choking to not cry in front of you. You always talked to him, and always listened to what he had to say. His words never fell on deaf ears with you. He'd even dare to say you were making him happy, so he allowed himself to linger when you got too close. Maybe he dared to touch your waist as he moved behind you. Let you put your feet up on his legs as you both read in silence on the couch, remembering the first time you did it without thinking and quickly apologized as you cuddled back to your side. Then, feeling the warmth on his cheeks when he grabbed your ankles and put them back on his lap without looking at you in the eye, too embarrassed to admit he liked it. Isn't this what he always wanted? Someone to come home to?
Your routines were adjusted to each other, and you worked together as perfectly as all the little pieces of a watch. He bought you books of whatever you were interested in, came back home carrying whatever extensive list of groceries you gave him, and mostly did anything you asked him.
"Red?" You ask, moving closer to him on the couch.
"Yes?" He tries to hide behind the book he's reading, your sudden closeness making him blush. Tries even harder to avoid looking at you knowing it'd make it even worse.
"Talk to me," now he does give you a little side eye unsure of how to act "c'mon, I'm bored, ask me something"
He sighs putting his book down, and hopes you don't realize it's to calm his nerves down. Where did his personal space go? And why doesn't he mind that it's absolutely thrown out the window? You look up at him waiting for him to say something, anything, it feels a bit... loving? It certainly did not help that you were so pretty, and you made it more difficult by being so kind to him. He needs to break eye contact for that, he can't go around thinking like this.
"What's the weirdest case you've had?" It's all he can come up with on the spot.
"Well most of my cases were boring, butā" He feels like a jerk, his eyes get distracted so easily. Looking at your lips moving as you speak, how your arm rests on the back of the couch, they even lay on the tank top you're wearing for half a second before he reprimands himself. He's lucky he kept his domino mask so you wouldn't notice where his eyes wandered to. "turns out the lady just had early signs of dementia and they couldn't sue her, what about you?"
"I'm the chosen one of a secret cult in the Himalayan mountains" He blurts out, then regrets not telling you something more "normal". Whatever his parameter for normal is.
"Youā" You laugh nervously "you're kidding me, right?"
"I've got magic swords to prove it"
"And you let me talk about some boring civil lawsuit?" You gasp, putting your hand on his chest to shove him lightly. He gets the urge to put his hand on top of yours so you'd stay there. "I'm so boring"
"It's notā you're not boring, I like hearing you talk about your job"
"You're just being nice" He wants to kiss off the pout on your face so badly.
"When have I ever been nice?" Jason thinks maybe a sassy answer can fix it.
"All the time," He feels your tone shift, now more soft than playful. Maybe you can't tell where his eyes lay, but he can definitely tell where yours do, and that makes him stop his attempts to mask how much he wants to kiss you. "you're always good to me"
You are so close, and you smell good, and your skin looks soft; he bets you'd feel just as soft under his fingertips if he had the guts to reach out. But do you even want him to? Maybe you were just this caring and tender with him because you had no other choice, just because he's protecting you. And as he gets stuck on thinking the million reasons why you wouldn't want him to kiss youāand ignoring the clearly obvious signs that you do like himāhis phone starts ringing on the coffee table. Jason takes a few seconds to consider if he should just let it ring before he speaks.
"I should get that" You just nod and give him space to get up.
He answers the call with an unusual "hey", instead of an angry "what do you want?" like he normally does when getting a call from a sibling. Tim wanted a favor, some info on who knows who, who was involved in a case he had not the slightest will to pay attention to. How could he? When he felt so stupid, he should've gone for it. Or maybe he shouldn't have, cause what if you were not flirting with him and he ended up looking like an asshole and making things awkward? He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back while going back and forth in his room. Only half listening to the voice on the phone.
He ends the conversation with a "yeah, whatever, just text me the guy's details and I'll see what I can do". He gets dressed in his Red Hood gear after hanging up, deciding to leave early tonight to go for a ride to clear his head. His heart shrinks when you only reply with a distracted "see ya" while doing the dishes when he tells you he's leaving. Not that he would know that you feel bad for cornering the guy on his couch, in his own home. Or that you screamed into your pillow as soon as he left.
The ride does little to ease his worries as he spends most of the time thinking about you, when did you stop being just an informant? He knew better than getting this close to you, but it never helped that since the moment you met, you treated him like a normal human being, not like he's a bomb waiting to go off like his family does. And he thinks that maybe they're right about him, that he is bad and rotten, and all those things they think about him. That he ruins everything he touches, and it's his fault you're in this situation.
It didn't help either that you were easy on the eye, from your office wear to walking around in sweatpants, to the few times he saw you in casual wear when meeting him. There has always been something about you that lured him in, maybe that is why his mind was so quick to think that the safest option was to keep you with him, because he wanted to spend more time with you. Perhaps that's why he feels extra guilty about anything that happens to you, in his eyes, you're his responsibility. But he can't have you, not when he could so easily ruin everything. So if he has to take a cold shower every time your foot presses higher up his thigh, then so be it.
That's why he worries when he comes home one day earlier than usual, calling out your name while taking off his helmet, but the music is too loud, and he gets no answer. He starts to panic when he finally spots you in the kitchen with your head inside the oven, he drops everythingāhis gunsāin his hands and rushes to you. His mind moving faster than his body thinking about every bad thing he could think of, was it something he did? was it something he didn't? You only feel two large hands grabbing your hips and pulling you out, you let out a confused "huh?" as he sighs in relief. He sits down on the floor next to you trying to calm down as you just stared at him with furrowed brows.
"Fuck, sweetheart," He nervously pushes his hair back, and you don't miss the way his hand is lightly shaking, "you scared the shit out of me"
"Wait, youā you thought I pulled a Sylvia Plath?" He just nods, leaning back against the fridge.
"Hey, I was just cleaning the oven," You explain while taking off the rubber gloves to hold his face. "Breathe with me"
You take a deep breath, counting to four when you inhale, keeping it in for another 4 seconds, and taking the same time when you exhale. It takes him a couple of minutes before he settles down and stops feeling the lump on his throat or that his heart is trying to force its way out of his ribcage.
"I'm sorry for scaring you, won't happen again" You smile.
"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny" He wants to sound offended, but you know there's some playfulness in his tone.
"I think it's cute you had a panic attack 'cause you thought I died" To that Jason just rolls his eyes. You may be the one teasing him, but your hands haven't stopped touching him, and it's not like you were keeping your distance from him.
"What were you even thinking? Cleaning at this hour?" You just shrug in response. It's not like you had to be up early tomorrow, or any other for that matter.
There are a few silent seconds as you both stare at each other, your eyes subtly drifting down to his lips. And he just leans forward without really thinking it through. There's been a million times where he wanted to do this, but now that he thought he lost you, even if it was for a few seconds, he's coming to terms with the fact that he can't hold it in any longer. You only hum and give in. Finally! He's making a move. You want to smile, maybe giggle a bit too, but he's kissing you with such a strong desire that you can't do it.
"Sorry, I shouldn'tā"
"Why would you stop?" You sigh, almost exasperated, before tightly grabbing his leather jacket to pull him close again.
He chuckles as you straddle him, maybe he should've kissed you sooner. You're sure you've never wanted someone as badly before. You could reason it was due to a lot of factors: first, he was hot. Second, he made you feel safe; third, he was the nicest guy you've met in years, and fourth, he had no problem with you living basically rent-free with himāeven seemed to like it. And now he's kissing you like his life depends on it. It's desperate, messy and hurried, like he can't get enough of you. His hands pull up your shirt, and you raise your arms to help him.
"I just have to warn you," He's out of breath, and his voice barely above a whisper: "I'm incredibly touch starved"
"Yeah, me too"
You can't be bothered to make any remarks or teasing comments, and apparently neither can he as he takes his jacket off. He folds it and uses it as a make-shift pillow to rest your head on when he rolls you over to be on top of you. The movement was swift, and he put his hand on the small of your back to make sure you didn't get hurt in the process. You could only hope he'd understand your kisses as the thanks you mean them to be. Your fingers cling around Kevlar clothing and pull it up until you get rid of it. Soon enough, your pants are out of the way too, and he takes a second to admire the view.
"You have such a crush on me" You tease with a playful smirk when you catch him staring.
"Yeah, the biggest" He scoffs, lowering back down to kiss his way down from your collarbone to your hips. He stops for a brief second, weighting his options and what he's doing. Then, once he's made up his mind, he whispers his name against your thigh.
"Jason?" You question
"Yeah, that's my name," He replies, looking up at you again.
"Okay, Jay" Your lips tug up in a smile, and he can't help but do the same.
"Should we-" He hesitates "Should we do this somewhere else?"
"Floor is clean, if that's what you're worried about"
"I know, but your back... and your head, I don't want to hurt you"
"Hurt me?" You gasp, teasing him, "What are you gonna do to me?"
You laugh at the redness that paints his entire face, and he sits up pulling himself away from you. But you don't want him to feel bad over a joke, so you get up too and kiss his cheek, telling him you're just messing with him and that you could go to your room if he wanted. He gives you a shy nod, as if his head wasn't between your thighs a second ago.Ā Ā You lead him to your bedroom, and in between kisses and sighs, you can feel how desperate his touch was, like he couldn't get enough of you. You are surprised at how soft he is, the way he keeps on kissing you, the way his hands hold you. And it becomes obvious how needy both of you were when you remember that pregnancy is a real thing and birth control methods exist.
"Fuck-" He groans "I'm sorry, I'll buy you a plan B."
"It's fine, donĀ“t apologize" You tease him as if you wouldnĀ“t have begged him to finish inside if he didn't.
"Do you need anything else?"
"Maybe a book about Stockholm syndrome" Your joke is met with a sigh and his teeth grazing your skin playfully threatening to bite your shoulder.
You playfully shove him off, laughing as you tell him to stop and that's when he notices the little notebook on your nightstand. He reaches an arm over you to get it, your eyes following his movement but too distracted with how his bicep looks so bite-able to notice what he's doing. Until he asks: "What's this?"
"My journal, don't touch it" You try to pry it out of his hand, but he extends his arm to leave it just out of your reach. "It's personal"
"Oh, it's personal?" While he fakes a pout with a mocking voice, you manage to wiggle out from under him and take your journal back.
"Wait, I actually have to write about this" You open a random blank page and pretend to write as you say: "dear diary, today I finally slept with him. It was fun and he had a huge d-"
"Okay, enough, it's personal" He laughs, cutting you off.
You giggle. Yeah, he definitely should've kissed you sooner
you always knew your boyfriend was good-looking. that was never the problem. itās justā¦ sometimes, sitting across from JASON in public, it starts to feel feel like a cosmic mix-up, like youāve wandered into a life meant for someone else. the girls sitting two booths over doesnāt help either. theyāre giggling behind french-tipped hands, three pairs of eyes glued to jason as if heās something decadent on the menuāsomething theyāre hoping gets delivered to their table instead.
āheās so hot,ā one of them says, not even trying to be subtle. āoh my god, look at those biceps.ā of course theyāre looking at him. heās beautiful. jasonās got the kind of face that makes everyone go stupid, and a body to match. throat dry, you drop your gaze to see that the ice in your drink have long melted, the straw squeaking against the bottom as you sip at nothing. the sound is thin and papery, an admission of your own awkwardness. jason stands, reaching for his jacket.
āyou good?ā
āyeah. just a bit tired, is all.ā the skeptical look on his face tells you that he doesnāt believe a word of it. but instead of calling you out, he drapes the heavy leather over your shoulders.
you hadnāt even noticed the chill until it was gone.
outside, jason walks beside you, close enough that your arms might touch, but they donāt. usually, you donāt mind the space. it isnāt until youāve made it halfway down the block that he finally says, āyouāre doing that thing again.ā thereās no rom-com script to fall back on. so instead of a coy what thing? you reply, āiām fine. justā¦ā your eyes drift to an oddly shaped crack on the pavement. āsometimes i think you could do better. thatās all.ā
his frown deepensānot in irritation, not even exasperation. just tired. it pains him to hear it, because itās not the first time youāve said something like this. āunless you think iāve got bad taste,ā he deadpans, āiād appreciate it if you didnāt talk shit about someone i care about.ā then, his arms are around youābridging that small but seemingly infinite space. one hand settles at the small of your back, the other gently cups the back of your head. a gesture heās done a hundred times, but still means it every time.āiām yours,ā he murmurs into your hair. āyou get that or no?ā
and just like that, your chest doesnāt ache the same way it did.
ź£ą§ ā :ā masterlistļ¹ź± requested by the lovely @soulsforsales
prompt: where the reader's car decides to mess it up on the worst day possible, fortunately the mechanic jason was quite willing to help.
a/n: i finally posted again, and tbh, i didn't really like this one, but i have a thing for mechanic jason that just can't be put into words, i hope you guys love this as much as i love mechanic jason.
english is not my first language.
It was 10pm on what seemed like the most stressful day of your entire life, everything you wanted was to get home and take a shower long enough for your neighbors to think you were dead, but since this was definitely the worst day of the year, of course you couldn't, and of course your car broke down on a dark Gotham street at 10pm.
Every little thing that could go wrong today, did. Your ran out of coffee and you were way too late to stop by a coffee shop, your work clothes that you were supposed to pick up at the dry cleaners yesterday? still stuck there, your important meeting with your boss? the biggest disaster of your whole career.
All you wanted to do was curl up in an fetal position and cry on the floor until this day became a really distant memory, but instead, you were calling the tow truck at 10pm on a terribly suspicious street in Gotham.
After what seemed like hours of no one answering your calls, you finally got an answer and arrived at the garage, which seemed to be the only 24-hour garage in town, and you were infinitely grateful for that.
Okay, now, you were expecting a mechanic twice your father's age, on a dirty white tank top and a beer belly, you didn't expect that at ten o'clock at night on the day that seemed endless, you would come face to face with a greek god who had escaped from Olympus.
Biceps so big they could break you in two (and you kinda wished they did), the most angelic face you've ever seen, not to mention the white streak in his hair, because of course your mechanic had to be absolutely divine, on the day you were absolutely mundane, your tight skirt stained with coffee (which wasn't even yours!), your face as tired as a construction worker's on the end of the day, and your makeup had abandoned you three disasters ago.
"Ma'am, so what's the deal with the big guy here?" he asks, his voice so deep you thought you might melt. Your voice barely came out, your eyes struggling to stay on the car between you two.
"I don't know, I was on my way home when it broke down, I have no idea what happened, my dad was the one who used to take my car to the mechanic."
And of course the perfect day for you to get used to going to the mechanic by yourself was the same day you tripped in a mud puddle on your way to work and had to walk three blocks back just to take a shower.
He stares at you like you're from another world, before shaking his head and lifting the hood of the car, looking for whatever was wrong with your car.
Your eyes followed every move of his methodically, as if, if you looked away he would disappear and be replaced by a regular mechanic with a beer belly and a bad attitude.
And when he took his grease-stained hands off the hood of the car and turned his blue-gray eyes to you, you felt like you might faint.
"Lucky for you, it's nothing really bad, you've just been a while without an oil change and it's easy to fix." The raspy voice echoes through the shop and you feel your heart beat faster as you slowly nod your head to show that you understood.
"And how much will this cost?" Your voice asks, politely, already searching through your bag for your wallet, which was a bright pink, because you simply felt like everything around you was black, white and gray, and you wanted to have something colorful to remind you of the existence of colors.
As he walked around the workshop, just before he put his grease-stained hands on the hood to open it and change the oil, he gave a little laugh that could have been mistaken for a smirk, and coming from that man, you felt like you needed to lean on something to keep your composure, more specifically, him.
He finished and closed the hood of your car, wiping his hands on a cloth that was lying on a shelf, it might have just been because it was him doing it, but every movement he made sent a wave of heat over you, because everything looked so fucking hot.
But before you could even find your card inside the colorful wallet, a smirk appeared on the man's face, who was now leaning against the side of your car, looking as attractive as humanly possible.
"Chill, it's just some oil change, it's already 11pm on a Tuesday night, you look exhausted, it's on the house, maybe that way you'll become a regular customer" His voice teases and you swear you just felt your heart entangle with your lungs.
There was no way this divinity in human form was flirting with you, of all people, you, at your worst, you were sure your hair that you had delicately styled the night before had given up a long time ago, and you swore you looked as much of a disaster as you could.
But still, there he was, openly flirting with you. "In the face of such an irresistible proposal, maybe my car will break down more often around here, who knows, maybe I'll forget to change the oil again." You shrug, putting your wallet back at your purse and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you smiled at him.
A chuckle escaped his lips as he tossed your car keys back to you. āMaybe you should get my number in case you need help and youāre too far from the shop.ā He shrugged, just before writing his number on a worn-sided post-it note that was stuck to the counter and handing it to you.
Your hands touched for least than half a second, and as cheesy as it may sound, you swear you felt an electric wave run through your body the moment your hands touched.
And right there, on the scribbled paper, was 'Jason' written in a sloppy handwriting that made you smile to yourself as you read it.
"Jason, huh?" You ask, looking up from the small note. He just shrugs, a silly smile on his face.
"You'll have to call to find out."
As you drove out of the garage, driving your now, not-quite-broken car, with a smile so big they might think you were leaving a casino after winning a jackpot, finally get to you that this interaction had actually happened, and that the neatly folded post-it note inside your pink wallet really had the number of the hottest guy you had ever seen.
And now, you were hopefuly waiting for your car to break down, willing to even crash into a tree if it would make him appear faster.
It turns out, in the end, your day wasn't so bad after all.
one of my favorite things ever is to write jason in a relationship where he gets all the love he deserves, where it's all very domestic, cute, lovely, because after everything he's been through, he deserves all the love in the world, and as much domesticity as he wants
I love your writing and was wondering if you could do something fluffy with Jason Todd.
My birthday is on Valentineās Day and I was wondering if you could write about Jason celebrating readerās birthday on Valentineās Day.
Like making her breakfast in bed or showering her with gifts, or making the whole day about her.
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cookies'n love (aka in love jason todd x reader)
prompt: where the reader is already used to not celebrating her birthday, because it's on a day where all her friends are celebrating with their valentines, it turns out that her very excited to celebrate boyfriend has something to say about it.
a/n: hi, i'm back with a really really late request (i'm so so sorry), and i know valentines day were a whole month ago, but happy late birthday! i changed a bit of what you'd requested, but keep the soul of it (jason in love), i hope you like it!
english is not my first language.
It was around 8AM when you woke up to the shattering noise of several things falling, your bright eyes blinking away the sleep, while a very sleepy you moved towards the source of all the noise.
Now, dating and living with a vigilante boyfriend for so long, it's expected that a loud noise early in the morning could be absolutely anything, especially when your boyfriend is Jason Todd.
But still, you're not sure anything could have prepared you for the sight of your huge boyfriend, in your pink kitchen apron, trying to quietly tidy up the mess of cookie cutters and cake shapes that were scattered across the counter.
With a heart-shaped cupcake pan in one hand, and an oven mitt in the other, your boyfriend's eyes meet yours that were incredible confused, sleep long forgotten in the surprise of the situation.
"Jay? You're baking? At eight in the morning on a tuesday?" Your sleepy voice comes as you walk into the kitchen, helping him tidy the mess of baking pans and cookie cutters on the counter.
"Babe, you're not supposed to be awake, it's your birthday, you should sleep until 10AM while your handsome boyfriend bakes cookies for you."
And just then, you smell the distant scent of vanilla and the very close smell of burning. Spotting the pan of burnt cookies cooling near the sink. "Huh, don't you think you overcooked it a little, Jay?"
You blink your pretty eyes at him while trying to be as sweet as possible about it, because your boyfriend with zero cooking skills had gotten up early to make cookies for you, just because it was your birthday.
And you knew, that for some people, birthdays were a big deal, but they just weren't for you, not since you were 12 years old, when all your friends started having boyfriends and you were left behind, your birthday being replaced by cards and cheap chocolate.
But, Jason actually cared about your birthday, cared enough to try to bake you cookies, and your heart warmed at the thought, not knowing what you had done to deserve him.
You watch him slowly wither at the comment about the burnt cookies. "Yeah, I guess, but there's another batch coming out that's going to be perfect." He says, shining up again.
And a silly, lovestruck smile appears on your face as you stand on your tiptoes covered by colorful socks to reach his face and shower him with loving kisses.
"Don't worry, Jay, they're perfect, all of them." You say as you kiss all over his face, feeling his smile appearing and he placing his hands on your hips, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing and placing you sitting on the, slightly less messy, counter.
"Yeah? Is that what you think? I just feel bad for waking you up from your sleep, you already sleep badly enough without me knocking over the whole kitchen." He jokes as he now returns the kisses on your face, forgetting about the burnt cookies in the sink and the cookies baking in the oven.
"Don't be, now we can do it together, maybe I'll even teach you my secret recipe" A smile playing on your sleepy face.
His smile widens as you wrap your arms around him, wanting to stay as close to him as you can, as if to ensure that he is real. "Oh yeah? I'll hold you to that promise, huh" he teases as he kisses your lips softly.
"They say the secret ingredient is only found in the highest mountain, and you're only worthy of the recipe if you love a Jason Todd, so it's not for many." A laugh comes out of him as he grins goofily, kissing the tip of your nose.
i'm cooking a little something, or should i say baking? anyways, a jason requested imagine is comingg, it's a lil bit short, but so cute, that's worth it! ā¤ļø
i just found this rafe gif and i'm truly obsessed, he looks so insanely good in it, like he just needs someone to kiss the tears away of his beautiful face, he looks so pretty when he cries, i'm mesmerized
so american (aka civil!reader x vigilante bf jason)
prompt: where the reader is not used to be loved in the right way, or, where jason finds the reader sleeping wrapped in his t-shirt and does everything to show how much he loves her.
a/n: omg hi! i know, i really disappeared this time, but i'm back and with a new imagine! i promise i will post every request that it's on wait list, and become more active in here, anyway, i hope u guys like this one
english is not my first language.
"he says i'm pretty wearing his clothes" so american, olivia rodrigo
It was already late at night when the window of your tiny apartment opened, showing that your boyfriend had arrived from his usual patrol, unfortunately, you had been asleep for a long time, on the couch, curled up in a shirt at least twice your size, an open book sprawled on the coffee table, in a probably very uncomfortable position.
Jason's eyes lit up when he found your peacefully sleeping figure on the couch, his satisfaction growing even more when he recognized the oversized t-shirt you were wearing, his shirt, the one that had been missing for weeks, but he seen it hidden on your side of the closet, a smile started to take over his face.
He carefully approached you, pulling the blanket from the edge of the couch to cover your soft body, but no matter how gentle his touch was, he saw your eyes slowly opening, blinking slowly as you tried to shake off the desire to return to your deep sleep.
"Jay? What time is it? I'm sorry, I tried to stay awake, but the couch was so comfy" the girl said, trying to defend herself, of nothing, because he was not accusing her at all, and it's obvious when he looks at her face with an expression of pure confusion.
"Why are you apologizing, sweetheart? It's really late, you didn't have to wait for me, come on, let's get you on bed" he says as the girl blinks her big eyes, shaking off the sleep, her arms wrapping almost instinctively around his neck, as he picks you up bridal style, wrapped in the fluffy blanket and takes you towards the bedroom.
It didn't matter how many nights had passed, how many patrols there were, how many times he told her it was okay for her to go to sleep, and that she didn't need to wait for him.
The routine in the end was always the same, him finding her passed out on the couch, curled up in some uncomfortable position, and then carrying her back to the bedroom while she grumbled about how he didn't need to carry her, even though she made no sign of moving, and just curled up tighter into him.
And yet, night after night, she kept apologizing for doing something as silly as falling asleep while waiting for him to come, and as cute as he thought it was, it was starting to get tiring.
"Honey, you know you don't have to apologize every time you fall asleep, right? It's okay to sleep, besides, I love the routine of having to carry you to bed" He teases with a smile on his face that said everything that was hidden behind his gaze.
She curls up on the bed as she waits for him to finish taking off his gear, watching him take off his combat boots and heavy jacket.
"I don't know, I just feel bad, you already do so much for me, the least I could do was wait for you." She says with a look on her face that expressed how much she wished she could do more, how much she felt she needed to do more.
His head tilts slightly to the side as he lets out a tired sigh.
"The only thing I want from you is for you to rest, so you can be beautiful and happy the next day, and not look like a tired zombie, you know that's more like my thing." He teases, smiling mischievously, drawing a little laugh from her pretty lips, as the bed moves with the new added weight.
His arms go straight to her waist, as if there was a supernatural force pushing them towards her. They curl up comfortably around each other, his head tucked into the space between her neck and shoulder, leaving kisses that were anything, but innocent.
"Maybe I have to tire you up, so you finally stop being so stubborn and go to sleep," he jokes, smiling as he bites lightly her earlobe, making her let out a cute sound between a nervous laugh and the beginning of a moan.
"Jay, stop it, you're tired, let's go to sleep." She protests, moving in his arms as he warmly holds her in place.
"Nah, never too tired for you, love."
His voice sounds huskier as his open-mouthed kisses start to trail down her neck, causing nervous giggles. "You know, I think you should-" He begins as she let out little nervous laughs and giggles, he murmurs against her skin, causing goosebumps, an effect only he could cause on her. "...Wear that shirt more often, you look pretty in my clothes." He says with a naughty smile as he places kisses on the lap of her chest, the part that's not covered by her (his) shirt.
This was going to be a really long night, at least you got a good rest.
