Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, had seen a lot in his time—crime lords, near-death experiences, even a resurrection or two—But love? Almost seemed impossible in a life like his.

But somehow, you’d melted that. That face he saw everywhere on cologne or sweatpants ads was now one he adored as his boyfriend.

You had barely set your bag down when Jason threw himself onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, boots still on, arms stretched wide. "I don’t know how you convinced me to do this," he muttered, eyes flicking toward you with a hint of amusement. "A weekend with no crime-fighting, no weapons, and no body armor? You’re dangerous, Mr. Runaway.”

And yet, he didn’t look like he minded.