A few days passed before he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, sweatshirt bunched in your fists, shoulders hunched tight. You didn’t hear him until his shadow filled the doorway.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You startled, looking over your shoulder too quickly. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just--tired.”

Frank frowned. You could tell he wasn’t buying it. “You’re not fine.”

You hesitated, then sighed. “It’s just… girl stuff,” you muttered, waving a hand like that would make it disappear. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He didn’t move for a beat. Then his eyes softened in quiet understanding. “You mean...”

“Yeah,” you cut in, cheeks burning. “I didn’t wanna make it weird or. I thought maybe it’d be gross or I-I dont know… remind you of her.”

He went still for a heartbeat. Then his shoulders eased. “That ain’t how I remember her,” he said softly. “And it ain't gonna make me uncomfortable. What makes me uncomfortable is you hurtin’ and thinkin’ you can’t tell me.”

Your throat tightened. “It’s not exactly pretty, Frank.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Sweetheart, I ain't exactly pretty. I’ve seen worse. The kind of blood that means someone’s dyin’? That’s ugly. The kind that means you’re alive? That you're healthy? That’s nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

You looked down, blinking fast. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yeah, I should,” he said, voice low, sure. “That’s what it means, bein’ with someone. You don’t get to pick and choose the easy parts.” He kissed the crown of your head and mumbled, "You get some rest, take a nap I'll take care of everything."

A few hours later, you woke up without even realizing you took his advice and napped.

When you woke up, the house smelled like broth and herbs. The ache in your stomach had dulled, warmth still radiating from the heating pad tucked against you.

You pushed the blanket off slowly, padding toward the kitchen. Frank was there, sleeves rolled up, stirring something on the stove.

“Didn’t expect you to cook,” you muttered, voice still heavy with sleep.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Didn’t expect you to skip breakfast and lunch.”

You blinked, leaning against the doorway. “You keeping track now?”

He smirked faintly. “Guess I am.”

The smell of food hit you --rich, comforting. He ladled a bowl, set it on the table, and nodded toward the chair. “Sit down, sweetheart.”

You hesitated, but one look at his face made you sigh and listen.

He crouched beside you, eyes soft. “You get cramps bad?”

You froze. “How do you--”

“’Cause I’ve seen it before,” he said quietly. “You’ve been snappier than usual, movin’ slow, wearin’ that same sweatshirt three days straight. You don’t gotta tell me. I already know.”

Something in your chest cracked open at that the quiet certainty of it, how seen you suddenly felt.

He reached out, brushed his knuckles down your arm. “Tell me what you need.”

You sniffed. “I don’t know. Just… not to be touched too much right now.”

He nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

An hour later, the lights were dimmed. There was a heating pad already plugged in on the couch, pain meds and a bar of chocolate on the coffee table.

He didn’t make a big deal of it --just handed them over like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“Ain’t nothin’,” he said, easing down beside you. His knee brushed yours, warm and grounding.

You curled up under the blanket. After a while, you felt him shift closer, his hand resting gently over the blanket on your thigh--not possessive, not pushy. Just there.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Thanks, Frankie.”

He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “You don’t ever gotta thank me for takin’ care of you, sweetheart.”

The rest of the night passed slowly and quietly the hum of the TV, rain tapping against the windows, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your leg. You drifted off like that; tucked against his chest, his heartbeat a steady lull beneath your ear.

Jason Todd had been tailing a weapons deal all night, dressed in full Red Hood gear, helmet and all. The scum he’d come to intercept were already zip-tied and unconscious in the back of a stolen van. Meanwhile, you had told him you were going out with your girlfriends and had stopped texting him about an half hour ago much to his worry, so instead of going home like he planned he decided for Red hood to make a pass by the club you had went to.

Which was why he was leaning against his bike, by the alley across the street watching the people entering and exiting. He straightened up as you stumbled out giggling with your friends and he huffed both annoyed and amused at the sight. You were in the middle of saying something, hands waving animatedly when you suddenly paused at the sight of him.

You said something to your friends before you began staggering towards him.

“Reeeeed!” you sang—sang—as you stumbled closer, high heels clacking on the wet pavement, your dress slightly askew and hair tousled from what looked like a hell of a night out.

Jason froze. “Y/N?”

You beamed, oblivious to his tension. “Youuuu know my name,” you hiccuped, staggering toward him with a grin that could short-circuit every neuron in his brain. “God, its not fair that your voice this hot.”

He coughed, straightening. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s late. And dangerous.”

You only grinned, as you staggered closer hand clutching his arm as you pressed yourself up against him. “Mhmm good thing I have a big bad crime lord to keep an eye on me.”

Jason cleared his throat unsure whether he should be amused or offended that you were flirting with him—well Red Hood.

You, meanwhile, were utterly unbothered.

In fact, you leaned closer, pressing up on your toes like you were about to tell him a state secret. “You know,” you whispered conspiratorially, breath warm against the edge of his helmet, “I think about you. Like… a lot.”

Jason swallowed. “Is that so?”

You giggle. “Mhm hm,” Your wandering fingers begin to trail up under his shirt, smile growing as you felt his muscles tense. “All those hard muscles, that sexy voice, you’re like every bad decision I’ve ever wanted to make all rolled into one.”

Jason sucked in a slow breath, jaw tightening behind the helmet. The feel of your fingers skating up his abdomen sent a jolt through him, and he hated—loved—how easily you could fluster him like this. Especially dressed like that. Especially talking like this.

You took advantage of his frozen state, your grin downright wicked as you nudged him backward, step by step, deeper into the alley’s shadows. His back hit the brick wall with a dull thud, but he didn’t resist. He just watched you, tense beneath the armour, like a predator unsure if he was about to pounce—or be devoured.

Your fingers slipped out from beneath his shirt, nails grazing down his chest plate before trailing lower—lower still—until they flirted with the waistband of his tactical pants.

“Y/N—” His voice was a warning. A plea. A prayer. He wasn’t sure which.

“Just relax, Hood… no one’s gotta know,” you purr, voice velvet-draped sin, your smile all teeth and temptation.

Jason’s jaw clenched, his breath catching as your fingers danced at the edge of his restraint—and his patience. He had fought crime lords, torn through ambushes, taken bullets without blinking…but you? You were something else.

The second your fingers brushed against him, Jason snapped.

In one fluid, furious motion, he spun you, pressing you up against the cold brick wall. His chest pressed hard into your back, the weight of him pinning you effortlessly in place. One gloved hand flattened against your stomach to hold you still, and the alley suddenly felt claustrophobic with heat and tension.

“Is this what you want?” he growled against your ear, voice rough and ragged. “To be bent over in a filthy alley and be taken by a criminal like some cheap whore?”

You let out a soft, breathless noise in answer—needy, aching—and pushed back into him deliberately, rubbing back against him. The sound he made in response was low and guttural, somewhere between a curse and a prayer.

The hand not holding you still began to unbuckle his belt as he unzipped himself just enough to set his throbbing length free. Then he gripped the hem of your dress and shoved it up with no patience at all, his fingers trailing fire against your bare skin. You felt the sharp tug as something tore, heard the hiss of his breath as his hand disappeared into his pocket of his jacket—where he stashed your now-ruined panties like a trophy.

The cold air brushing your exposed pussy had you whining, your voice breaking into a desperate whimper. “Please,” you breathed, unable to hold back. “Please.”

One gloved hand reached for your throat while the other wrapped around his hard length, lining himself up before thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You were dripping wet and offered no resistance as he slid inside you with ease, your eyes rolling back as a low groan rumbled from his chest. He was was so long and thick that he filled up every inch of you.

A loud whine tore past your lips and his hand moved to muffle your mouth as he pulled out. “You gotta be quiet doll, you don’t want everyone hearing me ruin you now do you?”

You tried to say something through his hand, but he chose that exact moment to thrust sharply back into you. Whatever words you had died in a needy moan as your cunt clenched down around his cock. The last of his restraint snapped at the sensation, and he began pounding into you in earnest.

Part of him knew how wrong and fucked up this was—you were technically cheating on him with the Red Hood. But at the same time, he was the Red Hood. So were you really cheating? The complication of it all only made him thrust into you harder,  taking you rougher than he usually did.

He might’ve felt guilty—might’ve—if not for how much you seemed to love it. His hand shifted from your mouth, gloved fingers curling at your lips. You didn’t hesitate, taking them in eagerly, sucking around them, gagging and drooling as he pushed them deeper.

“That’s it, doll. Take everything I give you,” he groaned, voice low and cooing—a gentle contrast to the brutal pace of his thrusts. “Such a good girl, lettin’ me use your holes.”

The sounds echoing through the alley were utterly obscene—from the wet squelch of your pussy to the sharp slap of skin on skin, and the broken moans spilling past your lips as you begged for more.

“Mmmf—feels… s’good—fuck…” you mumbled around his fingers, the words wet and barely coherent, spit trailing down your chin where his hand kept your mouth stretched open.

“Look at you… so fucked out on my cock” He groaned, “You’re such a little slut taking it so well.”

The bruising grip around your waist shifted to your clit, his fingers rubbing fast, harsh circles that made your hips jerk as you cried out. But with his cock still buried deep inside you and his strength anchoring you in place, there was nowhere to go—no escape—as he worked you toward your orgasm.

It hit you hard and fast—your head falling back, your entire body tensing before collapsing into trembling aftershocks as stars danced across your vision. He kept pounding you through it, relentless, until he finally followed, burying himself deep as he came with a broken curse, emptying himself inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound that filled the silent alley was the sound of both your heavy, ragged breathing as you both fought to catch your breaths and calm your racing hearts. Your palms pressed flat against the brick wall, still trembling, while his body remained close behind—forehead resting against your shoulder, chest rising and falling against your back in rhythm with your own.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first.

Then, finally, the quiet was broken by the low rasp of Red Hood’s voice, “You know,” he drawled, still breathless, “I don’t think your boyfriend would approve of what we just did.”

You let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, your head tilting back just enough for your eyes to find him over your shoulder. “Oh no,” you murmured with mock concern, “you think he’ll be mad?”

Red Hood huffed as he carefully began to pull out of you, his cum immediately dribbling from your well-used hole. “Well, he certainly won’t approve.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with faux innocence, lashes fluttering like you hadn’t just been thoroughly fucked against a brick wall. “Really?” you said, voice light, teasing—dangerously sweet. “Even after the mind-blowing orgasm we both just had?”

Jason froze. “What.”

You tilted your head, your grin only growing. “I know it’s you, Jason.”

Silence.

He blinked, eyes searching yours, as if he’d misheard. “What… how—”

“Baby,” you cut him off with a laugh, soft and incredulous. “You seriously thought I wouldn’t figure it out?”

Jason just stared at you, lips parting slightly. You could see the moment it fully registered, the sharp shift behind his eyes as his mind caught up.

“You knew this whole time?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

You huffed and rolled your eyes as you tug down your dress. “I wouldn’t cheat on you, Jason. Come on. I’ve known for months. You’re not exactly subtle.”

His mouth opened, but you kept going, voice now edged with affection and amused exasperation. “You leave your gear everywhere. Under the bed? Really? That’s your big secret hiding spot?”

Jason let out a groan and dragged the helmet off his head, revealing sweat-mussed hair and a flushed, stunned expression caught somewhere between impressed, exasperated, and undeniably aroused.

“You are such a menace,” he muttered as he pulled you in, his voice low and full of something torn between amusement and affection.

Your hands came up to cup his face, fingers brushing along his jaw, thumbs stroking gently across flushed skin. His eyes flicked shut at the touch, just for a second—like he couldn’t help but melt into you, even after everything.

“Yeah,” you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “but I’m your menace.”

Your lips met softly, a gentle contrast to everything that had come before. When you finally pulled away, your expression shifted into something sheepish.

“You’re gonna have to carry me,” you mumbled, still breathless. “I don’t think my legs are working after how hard you fucked me.”

He snorted, the sound low and amused, as he smoothly lifted you into his arms without so much as a grunt of effort. “We still have all night,” he said, glancing at you with a wicked glint in his eye. “And trust me… you won’t be walking properly for a week.”

And with that, he carried you off to his bike, so he could take you back to the apartment to get started on round two.