As Jason steps into the warmth of your small bakery, he can't help but feel comforted by the sweet smells.

The regular patrons glance up at the arrival of his broad frame in your tiny shop, but their eyes quickly drop when met with his usual scowl.

As he scans the bakery his gaze lands on you, fluttering between baking stations as you work. Your hands mold dough with practiced grace and his scowl softens as he watches, a strange warmth spreading through his chest.

From then on, he finds excuses to return each night. Just a quick stop—he tells himself—but he always lingers by the counter to watch you work.

Tonight though, a flash of crimson catches his eye - a birthday cake topped with a little cake replica of his helmet.

God that was cute.

Your eyes squint in concentration as you add the final details to the cake, entirely unaware of the riot of feelings stirring within him.

"Looks good, sweetheart. Just like the real Red Hood," His voice is soft, but the smile on his face is genuine.