There was a time where Logan could simply walk into a room with no extra routine to his steps.
But now, when he entered a crowded space, his nose would sift through the scents of those that resided there and those that have left.
He never noticed how much he searched for you until the day he felt the pang of disappointment in his chest when your scent was a few hours old.
It struck him on a random mid-afternoon - he was looking for you. Instinctually seeking you out even when he had no reason too.
The nail in the coffin was how well he could pick up your scent amongst even the most dense fragrances.
Logan was use to perfumes and deodorants clawing at his senses. Some were appealing while others were a little too strong for his tastes. You didn't have some siren-like aroma but something about it was comforting.
Something about you was comforting.
And Logan found himself seeking that comfort out in every room. Every mission. Every quiet moment.
Yeah, he was a goner for sure.
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕡𝕤 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕:
Logan wasn't sure what to do with this crush.
That's what he called it, at least. A liking to you in a way that was different to the rest.
But he couldn't pull himself away from you. So, he busied himself. He fixed things around you. Doing what he could to make your life a little easier, even in the small ways.
When he could, you'd find yourself accompanied by Logan everywhere. Missions. Errands. Even your walks around the X-Men facility grounds. Logan was always there.
A quiet presence.
You went from 'Bub' to 'Hold on, darlin', I'll be there in a second.'
Or 'Need some help, doll?'
Logan liked the way you would fluster when he called you that. He knew what he was doing. His rough tone would scrape those pet names through the air like a prayer - testing how you'd react to his small claims over you.
And yes, some part of him was staking a claim over you. That animalistic part of himself that he kept at a distance. Logan wasn't sure if he'd be ready to reveal himself to you like that... but he liked that you weren't afraid of him.
You started spending more time with him during the quiet times. Little outings to bars or sharing a drink in the early mornings.
It was all very domestic. It was nice. A comfort in the chaotic life that you both lived.
Eventually, you started seeking him out in crowded spaces too. But Logan always found you first and he always made space for you by his side.
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℙ𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥:
It was late one night when you stumbled home drunk from your outing with Logan.
But instead of dumping his ass on the couch and wobbling your way to your room for the night - Logan had you pinned against the wall. Stubble scraping against your skin as he claimed your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.
Your hands clutched his leather jacket in a vice, holding him close. Not wanting an inch to come between you as your bodies meshed together.
You could taste the beer on his lips. Feel the heat beneath his skin as his hands slid up along your body to slide beneath your shirt.
The tipping point between you wasn't an emotional revelation or some gentle exchange.
It was raw. Rough. Full of need and desperation.
Two consenting adults that had a little too much to drink and the tension finally snapped. Giving way for Logan to finally allow himself to give in to this crush of his.
You woke up the next morning with a heavy arm draped over your waist and a wall of heat pressed against your back.
Logan's soft snoring brushed over the nape of your neck. His nose snugly pressed against your hair, practically drowning himself in your scent.
The room was a mess. The blankets twisting between your tangled legs and the pillows had small holes in them from his claws.
Then there was your body. Marked and ravaged by Logan's teeth - hickeys blooming most noticeably along your neck and shoulders. Your chest was spotted with them. Your inner thighs bruised by his overzealous lips.
Then there was the ache down there. Delicious and welcome.
When you stirred, Logan tightened his hold on you in his sleep. Burying his face more firmly against your neck - a small grunt of displeasure crawling its way through his chest when you tried to peel yourself away from him.
You were trapped there until he woke.
For the first time ever, Logan was relaxed. Safe within your embrace.
⋆ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ⋆
Thanks for reading! Not sure who I'll do next but let me know if you have a fave you'd like to see!
Your relationship can never be more than untitled...
Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, kissing, (kind of) angst to fluff
The last thing your relationship with Jason needed was a title.
Things were better off undefined. He’d slip in through your window in the early morning hours, in a crappy old tee-shirt and torn up sweatpants he seemed to have just thrown on, bruised, sometimes bleeding, though he’d never tell you why. You didn’t ask. Gotham was hardly a kind city. You just figured he did what he had to do to make money.
Most of the time he’d be gone before the sunrise — which was a kindness, really, it was. At least that’s what you told yourself. You were spared the awkwardness of breakfast conversation, and the both of you could get on with your days as though the other didn’t even exist at all.
At least, that was the way things had been.
He began to come around a little earlier sometimes — and on a rare occasion, he’d turn up before it was even ten pm. He’d sit on your couch whilst you showered (because, for some strange reason, you were real nervous when he came around... you had no idea why. At least that’s what you told yourself), flicking through free TV channels or streaming something from some shady pirating site that tried to open up a page filled with “single moms in your area” every time you clicked the screen. There were times where you’d be too tired to do anything, or just weren’t in the mood, and probably because it was too awkward to admit that he was just there for the sex, he’d stick around. There would be pizza or Chinese food or tubs of ice cream. The man was six-foot... something? He could eat.
You’d get on so well, laughing and yapping and playing games, arguing about what to watch on the television, taking naps together — and, well, obviously, having really good sex. Time went by so easily together.
But when you weren’t together? Radio silence. Days of it, sometimes weeks. You’d miss him — but only for the sex. At least that’s what you told yourself. He’d come back around again sure enough, a couple weeks down the line at most.
There’d been an occasion where you hadn’t even been home when Jason had swung by. You didn’t really call or text each other, so you didn’t expect him to turn up when you were in the suburbs for a family reunion. Your place had been completely ransacked. It wasn’t a shock, really, not in the shabby part of Gotham you called home. Windows smashed in, most of your comparatively valuable items gone, your furniture torn apart.
When you came back, you found yourself locked out of your own apartment, fighting with the door to let you in until Jason opened it up. He’d took it upon himself to fix the place up; better windows, new (and many more) locks — he even replaced the flea-market frames of your childhood photos up on the mantle. You never realised that he noticed. When you asked him why, he just shrugged, “didn’t wanna be ‘round a messy place, is all. I didn’t think you’d have time with all those shifts you were pullin’ last week.”
You accepted his reason with an; “oh — well, thank you... so much.”
You knew there could never, possibly, ever be something between you and Jason. This untitled state of relationship was what worked for the two of you. Titles meant commitments. Commitments meant complications. Complications meant break-ups. You didn’t know if you could handle breaking up with Jason Todd... not that you really liked him, or anything... you just didn’t need to go through all that mess all over again.
At least that’s what you told yourself.
Well, you had pretty much come to assume that your relationship with the recluse had come to an end.
It had been nearly a month since you’d seen Jason, pretty much the longest stretch of time there had ever been. You’d been surprised, sort of. Before, he’d been around every night, and the two of you got on like peas in a pod — he was Forrest, and you were Jenny. You had no fucking clue when you told him to run.
The worst part of it all is that you texted him. Texted him. He’d given you his number out of his own free will, sure, but there was only a scant number of texts between the two of you guys. I mean, he was still saved in your phone as “Jacob - SL.” All you had said was ‘hey, u ok?’, but you might as well have been begging him to come back into your life, demanding intimacy. It had been three and a half weeks of no-contact and you texted him. At least it wasn’t a phone call. That would’ve been absolutely diabolical.
It was nearly eight pm on a lazy Friday when there was a knock on your door. You almost jumped out of your seat, thinking that The Exorcist had finally become interesting. Alas, the movie playing in shitty quality from an illegal website on your third-hand MacBook dragged on, and you had to drag yourself to the door, a little bit weary of who the fuck might be disturbing you at this ungodly hour.
When you peeped through the peep-hole, it was Jason. All six foot... something of him. You were surprised to see him. You honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself.
A little embarrassed, a little bit angry (or rather a lot, but pretty much all of it was being shoved back down your throat to simmer in your stomach for a good while), you tightened your robe and nervously unlocked each and every lock he’d installed and opened the door. There was a moment where you considered not opening the door. But it was Jason, so, of course, you swallowed down your dignity to wither away in your stomach down next to your rage.
“Hey.” It was the most awkward ‘hey’ of your life.
“Hey.” His was the exact same caliber.
He stepped into your apartment, it was a familiar moment, and yet he did it in such a way that everything felt completely and irreversibly changed. You knew you shouldn’t have texted him. Not that he had even bothered to read your message. You exhaled, sharp, and awkwardly fumbled trying to re-lock your door, watching Jason walk through your apartment, beyond your little dining table with mismatched chairs and to your couch.
He gestured vaguely at your laptop; “watching... what? The Exorcist?”
“Ye— Yeah.” You didn’t know why it was so fucking awkward. It wasn’t like you guys hadn’t gone a few weeks without talking before. This was supposed to be normal, if anything. “You, uh, wanna watch with me? I mean — we could always watch, like, a rerun of BBC’s Pride and Prejudice.”
“No, no. Let’s just watch this, ‘right?” He sat down on the couch, not bothering to take of his jacket or shoes, sitting so frigidly he seemed like a chair himself.
“If you want.” You hobbled over and sat down next to him, cross-legged, with a little distance between the two of you, pulling up your blanket to your chin.
It was that rigid sense of awkwardness and nothing more until the exorcism was done and the movie credits began to roll. It was just past nine, and you had ascertained through a nervous question that Jason: a) hadn’t eaten and, b) thought Chinese was “fine.”
But, of course, because absolutely nothing could go right on this night, the Chinese place wasn’t delivering. The only Chinese place around wasn’t delivering on the busiest night of the entire fucking week. The guy on the phone even had the audacity to hang-up on you after yelling, “pick-ups only.”
You wanted to throw your phone across the room — of course, it didn’t make it past the coffee table and landed with a dull thud on your carpet.
“Pick-ups only.” You re-iterated, before Jason could make a remark on your little outburst.
“Alright.” He said, taking a breath, “can’t we just get pizza or somethin’ else?”
You clenched your fists. Internally you were screaming. But, because you’d had the misfortune of growing up with a dad, you managed to stay calm; “I really, really want Chinese food, Jason.”
“Well, they’re not —”
“Does it seem like my cravings give a fuck?” You snapped. “I can just walk and get it. You don’t even have to come.”
“You are not walking around this neighbourhood this time of night.” Jason sounded just as annoyed as you, but you didn’t really care, you were already picking up your phone from the carpet, shrugging off your robe, putting on a hoodie, and a pulling on pair of Ugg dupes.
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Well, if you care so much, Jason, why don’t you come? I’m going either way.” You’d managed to unlock the door and were already out the door, not bothering to wait for him. You’d had enough of that these past four crappy weeks.
His only response was silently getting up, fixing his jacket, and following you out the door.
It was freezing cold outside, and completely dark. You were shivering, but you were absolutely not going to turn back — not after the massive tantrum you’d just thrown to even go in the first place. Neither of you said a word to each other; you just kept walking on in complete silence, slipping in and out of view between the scarce amount of street-lamps that were still working. Jason kept right behind you the whole time, and it was tangible just how pissed-off he was.
It wasn’t really all that far to the Chinese place, a fifteen minute walk at the most, but their delivery was pretty much free for loyal customers (which you were pretty sure you had become since you’d moved in, especially so after it became ritual to order-in when Jason came around).
When you arrived at last, all you said to Jason was, “the usual good with you?”
He nodded, and mumbled a, “yeah, ‘ts fine” under his breath, rummaging through his pockets, only to hand you a twenty.
“You don’t — I’ll just pay.” You would die before admitting it, but you felt bad taking his money to pay for a meal he didn’t even seem to want. Honestly, he didn’t seem to want a part in anything to do with you right now.
Yet he insisted. “Just take it.”
You did, with great reluctance and a sigh, but... fuck it. If he wanted to compensate for his depressing attitude with a bit of cash, who were you to say no?
It had been over a year since you’d actually stepped foot in this restaurant. There were a few metal tables and plastic chairs lined up by the windows, but most of the space was occupied by a big red counter and display windows various dishes. You went up to place your order, listing off the top of your head what you usually got.
It didn’t sound all that appealing to you, but then, when did you ever do anything different?
Some guy took your order. He seemed your age, maybe a little younger, a bit short. It was so obvious he was flirting with you, and normally you would’ve never flirted back, but today — well, what was really stopping you? Jason’s gaze drilling into the back of your head? You were never, ever, going to be anything more with Jason than just hook-up. So yeah, you flirted back — just a little, anyway. He didn’t even end up asking for your number, so it didn’t really matter. It was just... nice. Nice to think that some guy out there might actually like you.
It took a little while for the order to get ready. You and Jason stood side by side in complete silence. You looked out the window, Jason was doing something on his phone. When it was done, you left, plastic bag in hand, denying Jason’s offer to hold the food for you, keeping a brisk pace so you could get home all the sooner and this night could be over all the sooner. Jason didn’t argue, just followed, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, a broody look on his face.
You liked walking fast — it helped clear up your head, clam you down. You were half-way to forgiveness when it started to rain. At first it was light, a drizzle you could handle without batting an eye, only annoyed you’d have to figure out how to un-frizz your hair when you got home. Then it started to pour. In the blink of an eye, it was raining cats-and-dogs.
This was your thirteenth fucking reason.
Everything had gone so completely wrong today — fuck, not even today, your entire fucking life. It all came crashing down on you with the rain. For a moment, you stood paralysed, a little ways ahead of Jason, who might’ve been about to ask you what was wrong, or to tell you to hurry up so you could get out of the rain quicker, or to offer you his jacket to put over your head or something else so fucking stupid — because that’s what he did. He didn’t talk to you for a month, and then fought with you when he finally showed up again, and then offered to do something sweet because he knew you’d forgive him at the drop of a hat.
You screamed then, and before you even knew what you were doing, the Chinese food Jason had paid for was hurled onto the floor, chow mein splattering everywhere. You were so completely aggravated and overstimulated and a dozen other things you didn’t even know, and there was absolutely nothing left for you to do but just break down crying.
You were sitting on the floor, sweats soaked through, crying by the time Jason caught up to you.
“What —” it was humiliating to think what he might’ve thought of you in this moment.; “Here — take this,” he was draping his jacket over your shoulders, trying to help you get up, “c’mon, let me help — ”
“Stop — Jason, just fucking stop.” You swatted his hands away, a little too forcefully. You shrugged off his jacket and stood up, just for the sake of getting away from him. “I don’t want your stupid jacket or your stupid help. I — I don’t even fucking want this.” You tugged at his hoodie, the one he’d left behind at your apartment the first night you’d ever taken him home, the one you had practically subsumed yourself into, pulled it over your head and threw it on the floor.
He looked as though he’d been slapped in the face — hurt, really fucking hurt, but at the same time shocked in place. “Then what do you want?”
“Oh my god —” you scrunched up your hair in your hands, and if you had the willpower to pull it all out, you might’ve. “How long have we fucking known each other? How do you still not know what I want, Jason? Isn’t it so completely obvious?”
“No, it’s not.” You’d never seen Jason come this close to yelling before — not that you had ever had an argument before. Shutting up and taking it was the way you’d decided to play your whole entire relationship, if there even was one. “How, how the fuck am I supposed to know what you want? You wanted Chinese food, then you throw it on the floor because it starts to rain. You wanted to watch that stupid Exorcist movie, and then — then you just sat there, saying nothing, doing nothing, I mean — you have never once told me what you actually want. How am I supposed to know?”
“Because!” You couldn’t even believe him. You couldn’t even believe yourself — what was wrong with eating Chinese and then fucking and then not hearing from him for weeks, maybe never again?
“Because what?” Jason asked, just barely taking a step towards you. You fought your instinct to back away or run for it.
“Because you should just know, Jason.” You were crying so hard, your voice was so high-pitched you doubted he could even make out what you were saying, your chest felt like it was about to explode. “Because, last month, you spent nearly every fucking day of the week with me, and this month, I don’t hear from you. At all! I mean — you don’t even read my one fucking text message. And then you show up here, trying to act as though everything is normal, but it’s not, it’s absolutely fucking not, because all I will ever be to you is just sex, and you — you’re... Y’know what, just forget it, okay?”
You turned away from him then. You didn’t want to see the look of indifference on his face, you didn’t want to be disappointed again. You also didn’t want him to see you crying anymore. It was too embarrassing. You just wiped your tears with the sleeves of your top, not that it mattered all that much in the rain. It was silent then. You didn’t really know what to do, so, in lieu of doing absolutely nothing, you just knelt down and tried to clean up the mess you’d made of the Chinese food.
“I’m sorry.” You said, standing up, not because you were, but because you didn’t want to fight anymore. “Let’s just go home. I think... I think most of the food can be salvaged.”
Jason had a look on his face, and you didn’t really know what it meant. He was just so fucking difficult to read sometimes, it drove you to insanity. “Fine.” He conceded, much to your relief, “but at least put this on.”
He handed you his jacket (the hoodie you’d thrown off was tucked under his other arm, and you doubted you would ever get it back). You accepted, with some reluctance, but you had to work, and you didn’t wanna be getting sick.
The walk home was painfully quiet — just about the same as the whole evening had been. You felt like a complete and total disaster. Like, oh my god, who couldn’t keep together a sneaky link? Your life was a mess, and by tomorrow, it would be a mess without Jason in it. You had no idea how to feel about that — how to really feel about that, beyond the things you told yourself.
When you stood outside your apartment building, under the little screen over the door, you might’ve broken down again, but you were really just too tired. “I forgot my keys. We’ll... we can go up the fire escape or something.”
“I have them.” Jason said, picking them out of his pocket and shuffling through the array for the ones that unlocked the building entrances.
“Thank you.” You said, trying to everything but to look up at him, but you couldn’t really help yourself. If you could, you might not’ve wound up in such a fucking dumb situation. It took a moment before he looked down at you too, and you felt like a deer caught in the headlights, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t really supposed to do.
He didn’t look away. You didn’t look away. You were reminded of just how easy it was to be attracted to him — of how easy it was, how easy it might’ve been, to just kiss him. But... that’s all you would ever be. Just, this. No titles, no emotions, no nothing. You didn’t even need to tell yourself this time, you’d done it enough that you knew it.
It seemed like he was going to lean in, go the distance, but he didn’t. He handed you the keys to your apartment, taking a step back, a deep breath in.
“Are you... leaving?” You asked, looking at him with so much hope and yet, such limited expecations.
“Yeah.” Jason said.
You scoffed, but, then again, what did you expect? All you could say was, “okay.” But, before you could turn away, try to unlock your stupid building door, Jason caught your arm.
“Look —” he said, just barely meeting your eye, “I’m sorry. For being such a dick, y’know, and... for the other stuff, too.”
“Jason, you don’t have to apologise. I’m the one who ruined... this.” You tried to shrug away from him, but he didn’t budge.
“Jus’ let me speak, okay?” He said, letting go of your arm to push his hands into his pockets, the way he always did when he was uncomfortable. You could do nothing but nod ‘fine.’
“I — it’s just so fuckin’ hard to be around you, because — well, ‘cause you mean so much fuckin’ more to me than just sex. I mean — I can’t, I jus’ can’t because... It’s like that time your apartment got robbed, and I thought you were gonna be — and, I wasn’t even fucking there. I called your mom that day, y’know, and — fuck.” He was breathing hard, real fast, too, and you had never seen him so vulnerable. He had always been just out of reach, even when you were right next to each other. And here he was, pouring out his guts, to you. To you. The one person who you always supposed meant the least to him.
You had no idea what to say — you mean, what do you say when things like this, things you had always needed but never quite let yourself wanted. “Jason... you, called my mom? I... just, don’t —” you wanted to reach out to him, to hug him, to cry, but...
“I’m so fucking scared that, if I get real close to you, I’ll pull some shit like this, and... I’d rather never have you than loose you because, well, ‘cause I wasn’t enough. You can do better, anyway, like that stupid fucking guy from the stupid fucking Chinese place.”
All you could manage was a sad little, “Jason.”
He finally took a step back, and even though you felt like you could finally breathe, the painful realisation that this might be the very last time you ever speak to this stupid, beautiful man was enough to knock the wind out of you again.
“Y’don’t have to say anything.” He mumbled, looking down at the floor, and you could’ve sworn he was on the brink of tears.
“I —” You dropped the Chinese again, a little more gently this time, and your keys, only to put your hands up in the air in exasperation. “Jason.” You decided that it was finally fucking time to be a little brave, and do what the fuck you wanted to do, so you put your hands against his shoulders, trying to catch his gaze, “I want you.”
He still refused to look up, to meet your eye, because that would make it so real, and both of you had spent months in fear of that — but you had no choice but to push forward. “All I’ve wanted is you, Jason, and you — how could you not know? You’ve fucked up so, so many times, Jay, but, I’m still here, I — I don’t want some guy from the Chinese place, I want you. I don’t know how much more obvious I need to make it.”
He finally, finally looked up, looking into your eyes with those pretty green ones of his. “Do you...” he took a breath, and you could feel how fast his heart was going, “D’you really mean that?”
“Yes —”
Before you could even finish Jason’s arms were around you, his chin tucked in against your head, and it was completely intense and entirely sweet at the same time. You just took the moment to breathe him in, in a way you’d never really done before. It felt like you stayed exactly like that for years, the rain crashing down around you, but the rest of the world unmoving.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t wait a second to catch his breath to, at long last, kiss you. Really kiss you — one filled with all those pent up emotions and desires and everything else. It was intense from the start, so much passion driving his tongue against yours, but after a minute, or an hour, or a year, it softened, melted into something comfortable, something sweet, something that still left you feeling butterflies in your stomach. It felt like it lasted forever.
“Are you sure, y’know, that you wanna be... dating, or whatever, now?” You asked, a moment after his lips were no longer on yours.
“I don’t care what we call it, I jus’ wanna be yours.” Jason muttered, brushing his nose against yours, giving you one chaste kiss before picking up the keys and Chinese in one hand, holding you with his other, to drag you upstairs to watch that re-run of BBC’s Pride and Prejudice whilst eating Chinese, with a little bit of gravel, wearing his hoodie, together. Each other’s.
Summary: Three months into your relationship, your boyfriend Jason Todd finds your Red Hood poster. You're mortified. But Jason? Well, you've got his face in your room and your lips on his... truth be told, Jason maybe likes it a little too much that you're a super fan of his.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader
Word count: 5.4k
Warnings/tags: bf!jason, you find jason and RH hot and that crosses some wires. jason takes advantage of your crush (in a hot way), competency kink, cocky jason, identity porn, minor violence, motorcycles, reader has a crush on RH but doesn't know jason is RH so it's a little complicated but NO cheating!! implied sexual content but NO explicit smut.
divider
Tonight, you're staying at Jason's place. You've only been dating three months, but it's going well enough that you're comfortable enough to stay over. Jason has hinted more than once that you can leave clothes at his place, but you insist on keeping all of your stuff at your apartment, just in case things go south. What's that rule? Six months and you’ll know whether he’s the one? Three months to go, then.
Call you crazy, but you think you might already know. Jason is fantastic and you’re sure you’re in love with him. Not that you're going to tell him that any time soon. But you know enough not to put all of your stock into a three-month relationship. Who knows what secrets Jason Todd might be hiding.
"How come you never invite me to your place?" Jason asks as he pulls up in front of your building. He'd offered to drive you both to his apartment on his motorcycle, and it's officially weird if you refuse him. He might think you're hiding something. And you are. Something mortifying.
"Because you're gonna try to install your special security measures," you say as he locks his bike.
Jason thinks about it, then nods. "Yeah, that's probably true. No, but it's your place. I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't know about."
"I know," you say, going inside and holding the door for him. "But my apartment is smaller than yours.”
"That doesn't matter to me, baby."
When did he get it into his head that he needs to be in your apartment? You go up the stairs with Jason behind you, thinking about how you can excuse not inviting him inside. Except, it’s suspicious if you make him wait outside. Even for Jason, who's about as cagey as they come. He seems to trust you fine, but you have no idea what freak raised him because he's eternally wary of people and unfamiliar places. He also insists on sitting close to the door when you go out to eat. But even he's invited you to his place. Many times now. Maybe you can extend the same favor.
"Fine. You get a quick tour," you say against your better judgment as you get to your door, unlocking it.
"I'm honored, truly." Jason follows you inside. He clicks his tongue, pointing to the lock. "No deadbolt?"
"Jason..."
"I mean, what a beautiful lock on your door," he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. "Y'know what would make it even more beautiful?"
"You being less paranoid?"
"Seventy percent of Gotham break-ins are in residences that have only one lock. Sixty-five percent of them are on—"
You turn around and put your arms around Jason. He automatically puts his arms around your waist and stops talking. His beauty still stuns you: his aquiline nose, his freckles, those bright teal eyes. You get shy at times, flustered and delighted at the fact that this hunk of a man likes you so much.
"I'm extremely attracted to you, despite your raccoon demeanor," you say.
"You'd be the first," Jason says, gaze terribly fond. "I'll shut up now 'bout the statistics."
"No, statistics are hot. Just not when they're about home invasions."
"Point taken. How 'bout stats on Gotham's exports?"
You throw your head back, gasping. "Oh! You fiend. No more, please. I may just ravish you here on the floor!"
Jason bends you back a little, his hand fitting in the center of your back to ease you over. He doesn't do that very often, use his strength and wield you the way he wants, but when he does, you lose your breath. Your pulse quickens as Jason nuzzles your neck.
"This okay?" he asks. You hum an airy yes.
"'M in no rush," he says in your ear. "We can linger. Haven't finished your tour. 'S your room next?"
You straighten so fast, you nearly knock Jason in the teeth. It's only because of his quick reflexes that you don't.
"You can't see my room," you rush out, looking at him with wide eyes.
Jason squints, hands dropping to your sides. "What? Why?"
"Um... because... because my room is a mess."
"So? I don't care. My room looks like a solitary confinement cell."
You raise an eyebrow. Jason clears his throat.
"Well, I mean, it used to. It's better now that I have plants and shit."
"Lack of decor is nowhere near as embarrassing as my room, Jason. Mine is beyond messy. It's filled with half-eaten pizza crusts. And rats. And... slime?"
"Slime, huh? Well, good thing I wore my Doc Martens. I can withstand a little slime."
You sag. "You don't believe me."
Jason smiles and kisses your forehead. "Not particularly, baby. What's the issue, huh? You hiding nudie mags or something?"
You roll your eyes. "Who calls it that, Jay? You sound like Tony Soprano. Just say porn."
"Gracefully choosing to ignore that comment. Look, if y'do have porn, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should feel safe to express and explore your sexuality however you—"
"Oh my God, it's not porn." You cover your face. "Jesus. It's—okay, just come in. If you're gonna break up with me over this, we might as well face it now."
"I'm not gonna break up with you," he says as you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. "Nothing you show me could—"
You swing open the door. Jason trails off as he follows you in, his eyes landing on your 4x6 poster of the Red Hood that's smack middle in the room, taped over your bed.
And then, obviously, one can't miss the Red Hood towel on your computer chair, or the Red Hood mug. And the limited edition Red Hood Bat Burger bobblehead, which was quickly discontinued after some public backlash.
"Wow," Jason says.
You groan and bury your face in your hands. "It's fine. I know it's weird. Just go."
You don’t know how it happened, this accumulation of Red Hood merch. It's not like people aren’t fans of heroes. Plenty of local heroes are revered across the world. You have an online friend from Brazil who has literally all of the Superman collectibles. But Superman is reasonable. Batman is reasonable. Nightwing is common and basically a Gotham staple—you've seen women in Nightwing bikinis.
But Red Hood fans are far and few. Plenty of people think he's a criminal and a borderline villain. Some people, working-class people mostly, adore him. You've heard plenty of wonderful things he's done to turn neighborhoods around, keep people safe, fight The Man. Hell, last week there was a video of him carrying an old woman to the hospital after she fell in the road.
Plus, you get the feeling he's really handsome under that helmet. You're sure he's physically overwhelming, at the very least. You've seen clips of him fighting. Oh boy, can he hold his own.
But if you told the average person on the street that your favorite hero is Red Hood, they'd definitely give you a side eye. You brace yourself for one now.
"Huh," Jason says. "Didn't think you'd be a fan of his. Not really a hero, is he?"
You huff, squaring your shoulders. "He's helped a lot of people. No one actually cares about protecting us except for vigilantes. Red Hood protects innocents. If that takes a little bit of a heavier hand, so be it."
Jason raises his eyebrows. "Didn't know you played fast with morality like that, honey."
"You don't agree?" If this is where your relationship ends, you'd rather it happen sooner than later. "He's implemented a lot of fundamental structures that even Batman hasn't. He's more big-picture than the Bats. So, whatever, okay? If you think I'm nutty for liking Red Hood, then just go now."
You cross your arms and turn away from Jason. It's quiet for a long moment. You're sure it's done; you've just ruined the first relationship you really wanted to make work. But you've been on dates and let it slip that you admire Hood, and plenty of men let you know what an idiot you are to do so. You thought Jason would understand. Maybe not.
But then you feel arms around your stomach. Jason kisses your cheek.
"C'mon," he says chidingly, voice low and sweet in your ear. "Y'think it's that easy to scare me off? We live in Gotham, sweetheart. The only way I'd be worried is if you had someone's head sitting in your fridge. And even then, I'd hear ya out on whose head it is."
You lean into Jason's solid warmth, rubbing your cheek against his scruff like a cat. "I'd have my reasons if I did that."
"Mm, I know it."
You slip out of his grip enough to turn around. Jason's got a coy, little grin on, and you can't figure out why. But you suppose that's better than him leaving because of your local celebrity crush.
"You're really not annoyed?" you ask. "Because if you are, we should hash it out now."
"No, baby, 'm not annoyed." Jason glances at the Red Hood bobblehead. His grin widens, tongue resting between his teeth as he looks at you. You feel hunted, but the glint in Jason’s eye quickly disappears. "I think he does what needs to be done."
"Yeah?"
"Sure. Just surprised, is all. He doesn't seem like your type."
You blink, heart beating faster. "My type? Well, I-I just think he contributes a lot to the city. It's not... I appreciate what he does for Gotham."
"Wait." He tilts his head like he's genuinely trying to figure something out. "D'you have a crush on Hood or something?"
You hesitate, flustered at how quickly Jason picked up on that. How does he do that? "I don't—I mean, I admire him—he's—but I don't even know what he looks like, so—"
Jason's eyes light up, and you know you've made a mistake, just not the one you thought you would. He cups the back of your neck, which always makes you hot and squirmy.
"Oh, you do like him like that. Huh. Didn't know the helmet did it for you. Very interesting news, sweetheart. He doesn't scare ya?"
"No," you say, the word coming out weak. Wires are being crossed in your head between the image of the Red Hood and your boyfriend crowding you in your room and pressing his lips to your neck.
"That's very good to hear," Jason says, and you give in, tugging him over to your bed. He laughs. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
"It's embarrassing," you whine. "The poster was from a friend."
You let Jason climb atop you, permeating your senses with his bulk and his citrusy scent. He carefully keeps his weight off of you, but you wish he'd hold you down. This is exactly why you didn't want to bring Jason over; you don't need your old fantasies of Red Hood getting mixed up with your boyfriend.
"I don't think it's embarrassing," he says, gently taking your leg and crooking it over his hip. "You picturing him right now?"
"Jason!" You thwack his shoulder. You feel it more than he does, probably. He cackles.
"Teasin'," he says, soothing you with a kiss. "But I can get a helmet if you want me to."
You kick him off the bed. "No more tours for you!"
Work runs late a week later, so you're still out by the time eight o'clock rolls around. It's summer time, so it's not the worst thing ever, but you know what Jason would say. Your last message is still unread because Jason works most nights. You’ve chosen not to worry him by telling him you're also working tonight, instead texting him funny Gotham memes.
"Evening."
…Maybe you should've let him know.
You flinch, the voice startling you hard. Red Hood is leaning against the fence surrounding the park you pass by on your way to the bus stop. His arms are crossed, and his biceps bulge underneath his tight black t-shirt. You can't tell from here, but you're sure he must tower over you.
"Oh." Briefly, you wonder if you summoned him somehow after revealing your room to Jason last week. You've lived in Gotham your whole life and you've never run into Hood. The only vigilante you've met is Red Robin, and he's not a talker.
"Hi," you say, a little nervous, a little starstruck.
"Hi," Hood says, letting his arms drop. His posture is easy, but you know better. You know he's here for a reason. "Working tonight?"
You nod. "I just finished. I'm just going to the bus now."
"Pretty late for the bus."
"It's June."
"It's Gotham."
You open your mouth, then close it. Then you open it again. "Um... it's okay. I've done it plenty of times before."
"Plenty of times? Without letting anyone know?"
You wince. "Well, not plenty—"
"Nobody to pick you up?"
You shrug. "No."
"No? Think hard." There's the tiniest edge to his tone.
"I mean, my boyfriend could, hypothetically, but he works nights, so—"
"And you think his job is more important than making sure you're safe? It'd devastate him if something happened to you."
You blink. "I don't—I guess I didn't think of it that way."
Hood shakes his head. Then he pushes himself off of the fence and approaches you. Immediately, your heart rate increases. To be this close to the Red Hood, to have him worry about little old you, scold you for not calling Jason, it's causing a confusing mix of emotions to swirl inside you.
You've thought about how you'd act if you met Red Hood. Maybe ask for an autograph if the opportunity arises. You can't fathom asking him for anything now. He's intimidating. Maybe you are a little afraid, but it's intertwined with other feelings.
You can't see his face but you feel like he doesn't believe you. "Sure?"
You wonder if he can see all of your vitals. Can he see how warm you feel? "Yes, I'm sure. It's just... I'm sort of a fan of you. So it's... it's an experience."
Hood laughs. "Fan? Don't think I have any fans."
You shake your head. "That's not true. I know a few people who like you."
He hums and approaches you slowly. You let him until he's close enough for you to take in his physicality completely. He's a couple inches taller than Jason. Not that it matters. Just an observation.
"'M flattered," he says softly. "But if you're jus' sayin' that 'cause you're a little scared, please don't."
"No, I'm not scared. I trust you, Red Hood."
He folds his arms, stretching his neck to his right shoulder. You catch a sliver of tanned, scarred skin. "So soon?"
"Uh-huh."
"Kinda crazy of ya."
You shrug. "Maybe."
"Hmm. We goin' home?"
"You want to take me home?" you ask, eyes wide.
"Not-not like that. I mean, I can't let ya go home alone."
"No, I know, I just... I didn't think Red Hood made home visits."
"Sometimes." He makes an aborted gesture to touch your cheek with his finger and you swallow hard. Your ears are very hot. You might choke on your spit.
"I didn't know Red Hood would care that much if I went home."
"'Course I do," he says softly. "Your safety is my priority."
"My-?"
"Civilians, I mean," Hood says quickly. "'S why I'm out here patrolling."
"But surely there's people who need you more than me. I'm just some nobody going home from work, I—"
"You're not a nobody. Don't say that," Hood says with so much force, it renders you silent. "Got it?"
You nod. "Okay. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry 'bout. C'mon, I'll take you home, okay?"
You really don't want to bother Jason at this hour. Besides, as far as vigilante escorts go, Hood really isn't the worst choice. Another person might be afraid. A sane person would refuse.
"Yes, I'm okay with that," you say, smiling. "Thank you."
"Sure. My bike is parked down the block."
He walks a little behind you, close enough for you to turn and talk to him, but angled so that nothing can sneak up on you. It's the way Jason walks with you sometimes. You wonder if it's a Gotham thing.
Hood's bike is a cherry red. He lets you type in your address into his GPS. Then he gives you a helmet.
"Safety first," he says. It's the same helmet that Jason wears for his motorcycle. For a second, you swear you can smell his aftershave. Orange blossoms.
Hood gestures for you to get on. He holds the bike steady and it seems like he's going to hold your back to help you onto the bike. But he doesn't touch you, not like Jason does.
"Ever been on a bike before?" he asks when you're on.
"My boyfriend's."
He hums, throwing a leg over and straddling the bike. You blink at the sudden wall of bulk in front of you. "He treat you right, that boyfriend?"
You nod. "He's amazing. I love him."
Hood is silent for a moment, then he clears his throat. "Good. Lady like you deserves to be treated like a princess."
You laugh. "You barely know me. I'm no princess."
"I got a good sense about people. Hold onto me."
You wrap your arms around his waist. He tuts at you.
"Gotta hold me tighter than that. Don't want you flying off. You know better."
You tighten your hold, flustered and speechless. Hood pats your hand.
"There we go. Good listener," he says. "Everything okay back there? You're quiet."
For a second, it sounds like he's teasing you, and your stomach jumps like when Jason teases you. But the Red Hood isn't playful like that, right?
"I'm okay," you say.
"Nervous?"
You shake your head. "No."
"No? Glad you've got so much faith in me."
"I do."
Hood turns on his bike, revving the engine. You squeeze him tighter as he flicks the kickstand up with his foot, pushing off and balancing. He does so effortlessly. Wow.
Hood gets you home quickly. He follows all the traffic laws and doesn't speed. He drives efficiently, like Jason, but he takes it slow on the leans... like Jason. Maybe he can feel how you get nervous on motorcycles.
"This is it?" he asks, slowing down next to your building.
"Yes. Thank you." You wait as Hood stops and gets off first, then helps you off. You take his gloved hand, and he helps you off like it's nothing, bearing most of your weight.
"No more secretly working nights," he tells you. "I'll know."
You don't question it. "Okay. I won't."
"Good. Have a good night."
He starts to mount his bike. You step off the curb, in front of him. Hood stops.
"What's up?" he asks, nodding at you. He addresses you so casually... so familiar.
"Um, I was... do you mind if I ask for your autograph?"
Hood looks at you for a long moment. You lose your nerve and turn around.
"Never mind! Sorry. Good night."
"Hang on."
You turn around. Hood beckons you over with two fingers. You go, eyes widening as he takes off his gloves. He gives them to you. You catch a glimpse of more scars and maybe a silver ring. Jason sometimes wears a silver chain around his neck. It dangles over you when he’s—
"Oh no! Oh my God, you don't have to—"
"Got a bunch." It sounds like he's smiling. "Always nice to meet a fan. Any trouble with that boyfriend, let me know."
You're not sure if you respond, you're so dazed. Hood pulls away from the curb like a bat out of hell, waving at you as he goes.
You're already in bed by the time Jason comes home from work. He comes home earlier than usual, and you're still awake when he crawls into your bed next to you. You've taken down the Red Hood poster, too embarrassed from last week. Jason insists he's going to get you an even bigger poster. You beg him not to.
"How'd you know I was at my place?" you ask, yawning.
"My apartment alarm didn't report anybody entering."
"Still think it's weird that you track who enters your apartment," you say.
"Safety first. You usually don't go to your place unless you're coming home from work. You wouldn't happen to have worked a shift tonight without telling me, would you?"
"Okay, yes, but please don't be mad. I didn't take the bus." You pause before finishing. "Red Hood actually gave me a ride home tonight."
You reach sleepily for Jason's arm. He tucks himself into place behind you, wrapping an arm and a leg around you. He smells like your shampoo.
"Yeah, don't think we aren't done with the conversation about you taking the bus home at night, by the way. Red Hood, huh? Should I be doubly worried then?"
You roll your eyes. "Not on my part. But I was definitely getting a vibe."
"A vibe? Red Hood's got the hots for my girl?"
Jason slips a hand under your shirt to rest on your stomach. His hands always run a little cool and they feel good on warm nights like tonight. He doesn't mean anything by it, but desire creeps onto you, slow and thick. You think of the gloves in your dresser.
"It kinda felt like that," you say, a little embarrassed to even admit it. "He, uh, gave me his gloves."
"His gloves?" Jason sounds sleepy. "That's basically a proposal."
You'd never cheat on Jason, obviously, but you've had a crush on the Red Hood since he came to Gotham. Riding on his motorcycle tonight was exhilarating, to say the least. Still, you don't want this to be a thing. Another guy would probably get upset.
But Jason's tone doesn't change. He's still sleepy and peaceful. "'M not. Might have to kick his ass, though."
You laugh at the thought. Jason kneads the soft fat of your stomach. "Something funny?" he asks. "Y'think I can't take him?"
"I know you could," you say, and you mean it, even though you're not sure how well your boyfriend can dodge bullets. "But, I mean, you're too nice for him, Jay. Hood fights dirty when he needs to. You fight fair."
"Wow. So you don't think I could beat Red Hood in a fight. Way to bruise a man's ego, baby." Jason buries his face in the back of your neck in retaliation. You squeal at the tickles.
"I didn't say that!" you say, giggling. "It's a compliment. You're too nice to scrap with him. Ah! Jason, mercy, mercy!"
"So you're saying he's mean?" Jason asks, showing mercy and easing off. He returns to just holding you, leg over yours.
"Not... not to civilians. Not to me. He's just a little rough overall, I think. But he seemed nice."
"Oh my God, you loved it," Jason says, no longer sounding so sleepy. "You loved being on his bike. You loved him being a little rough. This was a dream come true."
"No! No, Jason, it wasn't like that."
"You got the hots for Hood," he sing-songs. "Hood hots, Hood hots!"
"I don't, I don't," you say, shoving your face into your pillow. "Stop. You know you're the only one for me."
Jason hums, pushing himself up so he's on top of you without putting his weight on you. He pets your hip. "Yeah, baby, I know. Don't worry. Not mad. I think it's cute. You got a little flustered around him. No biggie. I trust ya."
You sigh, turning your face to the side. "He was professional."
Jason snorts. "Yeah, he better have been. Pretty lady like you holding onto him."
"I'm sure he helps way prettier ladies in a night," you mumble.
Jason easily rolls you over, so you're facing each other. He tucks you into his chest, an arm and a leg returning to their places around you.
"I seriously doubt it," he says. You can feel his voice vibrate through his chest. "Everyone knows you're the prettiest princess in Gotham, baby."
You hesitate, thinking about Hood. "Princess?"
"Yeah. That okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, that's fine."
Jason makes a noise like he knows something you don't.
Every so often, you really hate living in Gotham. It's usually around a time like this: Scarecrow has broken out of Arkham, and he's causing serious damage. Everyone has been warned to stay inside, and the sky is hazy with fear gas.
You're mostly worried about Jason. He went out a few hours ago and he hasn't texted you since. You asked where he was and called him a dozen times but he didn't respond. You're freaking out.
You're about to go out and look for him, Scarecrow be damned, when suddenly Red Hood is on the balcony of your boyfriend's apartment. How did he avoid tripping the alarm? You go to open the window but he opens it himself.
Shit. Is Hood breaking into Jason's apartment? Who the hell do you call in this situation?
"Hey," he says, voice tight. "Get your bag. We gotta go. Scarecrow and Ivy teamed up and it's bad."
"What? Okay. Oh my God." You jump into action, running into Jason's room to get your stuff. You come back, about to climb out the window, but you stop. He waves you over urgently. You shake your head and take a step back.
"No, I can't go without Jason," you say. "He was supposed to be back by now. What if he's gassed? He hasn't called me."
Hood fidgets, his whole body restless. He looks around, then looks back at you. "I'm sure he's fine. You can call him again when you're—"
"No," you say, staring those glowing white eyes down. "I don't care what authority you might hold, Hood. I'm not leaving Jason. He might come back here and he'll worry if I'm not here. I was going to go look for him."
"Don't do that," he says firmly. "Jesus." He looks at you, rolls his shoulders, then sighs. He shakes his head and grabs his helmet.
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, I didn't wanna do it this way. Shit. Okay."
The latches of his helmet click. And suddenly you have your boyfriend in front of you, dressed like the Red Hood. He drops his helmet on the floor.
Your mouth falls open. "Wh—Jason? What? Are you–you were him the whole time? Are you fucking ser—"
"I know, I'm sorry." He takes your hands. "I'm sorry, honey. I wasn't gonna tell you this way but you're so stubborn, worrying about me and shit. I promise you can yell at me as much as you want after. You can throw stuff, hit me, break up with me, anything you want, just—"
You squeeze his hands. Jason stops his senseless ramble.
"I would never do any of those things," you say. "You don't know me at all if you think I would, Jay. I'm just, y'know, caught off-guard. Apparently, I've had a crush on my boyfriend since he before he became my boyfriend."
He cracks a smile. You roll your eyes.
"And you've been a smug asshole about it this whole time!"
"Kinda," he admits, looking away, and you see how pleased he's been about the whole thing. "I'll make it up to ya."
"Yeah, you better. Where are we going?"
Jason's shoulders slump with relief. You see it in his eyes too.
"You'll go with me?"
"Always," you say.
He takes his helmet, shifting from your boyfriend back to Red Hood. Wow. "Okay. Down the fire escape. We're taking my bike."
Jason puts his helmet back on. You follow him down the fire escape and to where his—Hood's—bike is parked.
"Your bike, huh?" you ask.
"My other bike."
"Uh-huh."
Hood gives you a rebreather and you take off, headed toward the Diamond District. He goes down a ramp and through some pretty fancy gates. Where...?
Concrete walls slide open and Jason pulls into what looks like a lair. Holy shit. He helps you off and you take off your helmet, staring up at a cave ceiling that seems to go on forever.
"Hood," someone growls, startling your gaze back down. Batman is glaring at you. "Why is there a civilian here?"
Jason takes off his helmet. "Yeah, so, this is my girlfriend. She's staying here, and if you try to kick her out, I'm gonna blow up the Batmobile. Cool? Cool."
"Since when do you have a girlf—" begins Red Robin.
"No questions," Jason snaps. "Not one word. Be nice to her or I'll kill you all."
You gasp. Jason turns to you, pulling you closer.
"No, sorry, I wouldn't do that. No deaths. They would recover from my maiming," he says to you, petting your shoulder.
"Not better," you hiss.
He shrugs, smiling. "'M a man of habit. Gonna try to change me now?" He kisses your cheek and you melt like you always do under his affection. Jason leans in and whispers the last part: "You could. I'd let ya."
"Wow," says Spoiler. Is the entire Gotham vigilante taskforce here? "So it's true what they say about married life."
"We aren't married," you say, confused. Jason grunts in annoyance, cradling the small of your back.
"With how he's acting? You might as well be," she says.
"This is so awesome," Nightwing says, full of glee. "Oh, you'll never hear the end of this, Jason."
"Listen, Dickbag—"
"Focus," Batman says. "She can't be here. Take her upstairs and come right back."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Sure, fine. C'mon, baby."
Robin is glaring at you, which kind of makes you want to throw up. But then Black Bat and Spoiler wave at you, and that makes you feel better. You wave back.
"Batman's really mad," you say as Jason leads you upstairs.
"Yeah, that's his default setting. He's been mad for about twenty-five years. He'll get over it. You're gonna meet Alfred next. He's the best."
"Alfred?"
You get to the top of the stairs and step into what looks like a mansion. Wait a minute. You've seen this mansion before. In a magazine...
"Is this Wayne Manor? What the hell, Jason? Am I meeting the Queen of Denmark next?"
"Again, not how I wanted you to find out," he says.
"I'm–I'm not dressed to be in Wayne Manor!"
"Bruce dresses up as a bat every night. Rest assured that you are the most normal person in this house, and none of those freaks downstairs can ever take that away from you."
You frown. "Still..."
"Don't y'trust me?" Jason asks, tapping under your chin. He towers over you, and now you notice that his Red Hood boots are taller than his normal ones. Clever.
"Yeah, I trust you, but—" You stop as Jason herds you against the wall, helmet dangling from his hand. He looks very official with his guns and armored clothing. His black cargo pants are pulled taut around his thighs, outlining how thick they are. It's just now occurring to you how deadly competent your boyfriend is, now that you've learned that the Red Hood was never that far away. Maybe you should be scared but, well, the wires were crossed a while ago.
"I didn't even suspect anything," you say, blinking at him. "You had me completely."
Jason shrugs, eyes half-lidded. You're not mad. He knows it. "Made sure you wouldn't find out. Wanted to find the right time, see how you felt about Hood. And then imagine my surprise when I learn that you've got his face on your wall, and his gloves in your dresser."
"You liked it," you say, lifting your chin, challenging.
Jason leans in, cupping the back of your neck, lips going to your ear. He wedges a knee between yours. "How could I not? You're so pretty, so nice t'me. Y'like me that much? Want me even like that? Tellin' Hood you love me, God—"
Something beeps, loud and shrill, and you jump. Jason just sighs exasperatedly, pulling out his phone and denying the alert.
"You have to go," you say, suddenly guilty you've kept Jason for so long.
"I—" Jason grimaces. "Yeah. I'll be back. We're not done."
You bite the inside of your lip. "I hope not."
Jason kisses you, hot and hard, and then he seems to steel himself, shifting into whatever Gotham needs him to be. He puts his helmet on and brushes your cheek, then disappears down the stairs to the Cave. You lean against the wall, catching your breath.
