#football!jason grace

[juneberrie]

FOOTBALL PLAYER ! JASON

him giving you his varsity jacket when you're cold, wearing his jersey to school / wearing his practice jersey to games, beefy arms, slyly commenting about how nice his ass looks in his uniform, him waving at you from the field, his HANDS holy fuck, running out onto the field after they win a game, sweaty breathless victory kisses, him walking around with an arm over your shoulder, the whole team loving you, him giving you a cocky smile when he's still on a victory high, making a point of being with you at all times so that other girls don't try to flirt with him.

[nofingjustaninchident]

hi, I’m not great at requesting things but if this makes sense could you write a high school au where Jason is a football player. I think it would be cute cause he’s definitely tall enough and strong enough but then add in him being kind and wow he would make the BEST high school football player boyfriend. Thank you

⛧° Jason Grace x Nerdy! Reader hcs °⛧

content: jason grace x reader, college au!

warnings: cursing, allusions to sexual stuff (not much tho), stupidtly fluffy and corny.

a/n: bby if i tell you i dreamt about this, would you believe me? like, i swear to all the gods, i dreamt with this and woke up thinking about writing it… well, here ya go. oh, and i also made her a brazilian, i hope you don’t mind? if you do, just ignore it, please 🫡

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

Of course, he’s a great football player.

Like, i know no shit about football, i’m a soccer girly, but he’s the best quarterback in the city. like, he’s really really good.

And obviously everyone believes he’s such an asshole and a womanizer.

But in reality he’s so so nice

Sure, he sleeps with some girls and all, but not as much as his teammates.

He’s also the only jock that sticks with a girlfriend. Not for long, but still more than the other guys ig

So when he was having trouble with maths, he needed a tutor, cause he had to have a back up plan of he didn’t went for the pros

Such a nice boy, fr.

And he went talk with the teacher to ask who could teach him.

And that’s when he found you.

You weren’t exactly a super nerd. You just liked to study.

But you had a lot of friends, since being the only exchange student did bring this sort of popularity around the university.

And when he first came to you, you were kinda bitchy.

You know, you had a bit of hatred towards football players. No idea why, it was just there.

Even with that, you were too kind-hearted to don’t tutor him.

And when you got to know each other… you kinda started liking him.

On your first study session, the library was too full, so you went to the outside

Which was really working out, till Jason found a little bird that probably fell from his nest

The guy was so worried that he almost took the bird home

He would’ve done it if you didn’t stop him

But he found the nest and put the little bird back there

And you just stood there, like “what the fuck? isn’t he supposed to be a douche?”

It happens that he’s not.

And you became pretty good friends with the frequent study sessions and all.

Not to mention he was pretty offended when you told him you didn’t like football.

And you were very offended when he asked if the spoke Spanish in Brazil.

He knew it didn’t, he just did it to piss you off.

He really wanted you to go to one of his games, but you never said you were really going.

So, one day, when his team was having a match against Harvard University, he was more than surprised to see you at the stands, right in the front.

With his jersey. With his number and name on your back.

He honestly felt he was gonna cry right then and there.

He got so happy he made a touchdown. They won.

And you were there, cheering for him and pretending like you understand anything that was going on there.

When the game ended, he came rushing towards you.

“Congrats, Gra-“ Before you could even finish your sentence, he kissed you.

Oh, and it was heaven.

After this, you started dating and it was the best thing you ever experienced.

He was such a gentleman.

Doors? Don’t even touch that. Dates? He’s paying, duh. You’re tired? He’ll carry you, bridal style.

You get the point.

You started liking football because of him. And he started liking soccer because of you.

a/n: i don’t know what to feel about this lol. idk what you’ll think of the brazilian thing, but if you don’t like it, i’ll remake it, promise!

[daystarpoet]

★﹐ever seen ．﹗﹑

fb!jason grace because queen @jgracie / @luverina wrote it and he's been stuck in my head for months on end. giving my own little spin to it. american football player jason grace x fem!reader. bud is too popular for his own good and doesn't even notice. mind you i haven't read hoo, i just have maaaaaaaany hours of fics on me. so sorry if it's ooc. 467 words

your life was turned upside down the minute jason grace confessed his feelings for you after winning a football game. all of a sudden, you weren’t just the quiet reader girl any more. no. you were jason grace’s girlfriend— and that, was a title to behold.

it all had started with a crush. just another teenage crush. everyone had a crush on jason grace. he had radiant blond hair, the most gorgeous blue eyes in existence, and his face was perfectly shaped— just like a roman statue. plus, he wasn’t just your typical jock. no. he was actually smart, he was caring, and he didn’t indulge in the pointless pranks his teammates seemed to be so incredibly fond of.

your eyes would sometimes catch his during class; only to rapidly return to their previous spot. he would awkwardly wave at you whenever you crossed paths in the hallways. one time he even stayed with you during a break just because you hadn’t finished your notes yet.

your interactions were only intensified when the teachers were fed up with your class talking in class enough for them to arrange the seats themselves. you had the fortune to be assigned jason as a seating partner. from that day onwards; you two only grew closer. you shared your notes, whispered comments about whatever the teacher was saying, and made a lot of eye contact.

fast-forward to the present day. jason was no longer your crush, but your actual boyfriend. he did all these little things like helping you carry your books and letting you wear his varsity jacket. he would quietly listen and nod along as you rambled about your current read for hours on end. all that while being drop-dead gorgeous.

the most mesmerizing thing about him were his eyes. an electric shade of blue that only intensified whenever you made eye-contact. he most certainly had the prettiest eyes you had ever seen. you felt like floating whenever he’d look at you with that soft, gentle, enchanting gaze.

**“**you stare a lot. did you know that?” jason asked, his brows furrowing in amusement. his head rested on his left arm as his body laid on your bed. the afternoon sun shined through the window, casting its glow right upon the pair of you.

“i do not.” you replied, rolling your eyes in an attempt to cover the fact that you were indeed staring. you lightly slapped him on the arm, which he used as a chance to take a hold of your wrist and pull you to lay next to him. “i don’t mind if you do, pretty girl.” he gave you a cheeky smile.

this was what your life generally looked like after class. on the days he didn’t have football practice, he would go over to your house and hang out with you, listen to you ramble, study, do homework, make out, and take short naps. “now, what were you saying, about that book character?” and just like that, he let you ramble away.

[nekupilled]

percy/jason is actually a really solid ship but you need to realize that it was doomed to fail from the very start because the ship name is either gonna be ‘jercy’ or ‘person’ 

[manygeese]

valgrace high school au bc I said so.

~*~

It was 7:30 when the football game started, and Leo was on a soda run- pink lemonade for Piper, sweet tea for Hazel, Monster for Nico, and Pepsi for Percy. Fanta for himself, of course. He was lucky enough to secure a spot in line before the demand for snacks skyrocketed, but unfortunately, that meant he didn’t have enough time to rehearse what he was going to say to the cashier.

Leo recognized the lady manning the register as Percy’s mom, the head of the PTA, which made his anxiety dissipate a little. There wasn’t another person on Earth as kind as Sally Jackson.

“Hi, Ms. Jackson.”

“Hello, Leo,” she said with the practiced ease of a veteran retail worker. “How can I help you?”

“Um. Pink lemonade for Piper. Sweet tea for Hazel. Monster for Percy and Pepsi for Nico? No, wait, Pepsi for Percy and Monster for Nico!”

Ms. Jackson laughed warmly. “Anything for you?”

“Fanta, please.”

“You got it,” she said with a series of finger guns. He surrendered Piper’s debit card to her for payment.

“Thanks, Ms. Jackson.” He tried to wave, but that was hard to do when juggling five soda bottles. When Ms. Jackson pointed out he left Piper’s card, he floundered for a second, trying and failing to make room to hold it. He gave up and just took it in his mouth, ignoring the kid staring at him incredulously as he left the line.

Finally, he plopped down on the bleachers next to Piper. She gave him a look. “Whatcha got there?”

“Ah gah da shodahs.”

“I didn’t mean the sodas,” she scoffed, reaching out to flick the debit card like one does with a ruler hanging off a desk. “I meant this poor guy.”

Leo spat it out into Piper’s hand, making her recoil in disgust. “Sorry, forgot I had that in there.”

Piper took out wet wipes from her purse as she complained about how gross he was. “Ew, ew, ew ew ew. You’re disgusting and I’m never giving you money again.”

“I’ll have you know that errand boy for a group of five is a very demanding career. I went to great lengths to get that pink lemonade, lady, so don’t judge.”

~*~

Paying no attention to the marching band when halftime started (or Percy’s heart eyes when he spotted Annabeth in the front with the other trumpets), Leo hopped over bleachers towards the fence that separated the field from the seating.

“Jason!” He called to his boyfriend, causing the blond in question to whip his head around.

Frank shushed him from his place beside the water cooler. “God, you’re louder than the trombones. Cool it, pipsqueak.”

“Shut it, man. Is your name Jason? No? Didn’t think so. Go back to chugging your boring ass water, you bitch,” Leo told the quarterback. He made a show of tucking a curl behind his ear like the love interest in a hallmark movie as her turned back to Jason. “Anyways, whatcha doing?”

Jason snorted, lacing his fingers through the fence. “I’m getting some boring ass water. What about you?”

“Oh, just going to see my wonderful boyfriend. The usual.” Leo pushed his hand through the fencing, trying to reach for Jason’s. Jason caught the hint and intertwined their fingers with a goofy smile.

“Lucky guy, huh?”

“Damn right he is.”

Frank gagged in the background.

Leo gave him a fiery stare. “Have you and Hazel looked in a mirror recently, Frankie-poo?”

“Only Haze can call me that,” Frank said after a second of embarrassing silence, turning a brilliant shade of red.

Leo looked back to his boyfriend, who had a lovesick grin plastered across his face. “Oh!” Leo shoved his hand into his jacket pocket, ripping his hand from Jason’s as he rifled through all his knickknacks for his target. “I got you skittles. I know you like M&Ms better, but they didn’t have any, so I figured these would do. If you don’t want them, it’s okay, Piper would kill for a bag of these-“

Jason cut him off with a chuckle and a soft look. “Thanks, babe. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, when in Rome.” Leo smirked as he tore open the bag and fed Jason a skittle (yellow, his favorite). “And by ‘when in Rome’, I mean ‘when you have access to Piper’s debit card.”

~*~

Leo whooped as their team gained 15 yards, but it turned into a yawn halfway through. Piper let out a tired chuckle as Percy followed suit. Nico was asleep on Hazel’s shoulder, who had only stayed awake this far to cheer for Frank. Piper was already discussing how to vandalize Nico’s arm (possibly his face if she was willing to face the wrath of hell) once Hazel finally succumbed to sleep.

It was the final quarter, and the score was nearly tied. Their team was one touchdown behind the other school, and unfortunately, they were still stuck towards the middle. There were 30 seconds left of playtime and one attempt left before they had to go on defense.

Leo only cared because he knew Jason cared. If they lost, their date tomorrow afternoon would be seriously hampered by leftover bad vibes. He whooped harder, making Nico open his heavy eyes and shoot him a deadly glare.

“Sorry, man. I’m high off school spirit and skittles. Hard to be quiet. You get it,” Leo mumbled, followed with a deliriously tired giggle. Nico just grumbled and scrunched his eyes closed again.

The ball was in play again, moving around between players so quickly that Leo couldn’t track it. The opposite team pushed theirs backwards, but one player had already broken the line with the ball, bolting toward the end zone. Player 05.

Slowly, Leo realized he knew that number.

05 was Jason’s.

Belatedly, Leo joined the cheering that erupted around him, clapping and jumping with Piper and Percy. Hazel screamed excitedly as Jason neared the goal, upsetting Nico until he recognized what was going on, at which point he let out a sleepy “hooray”.

Piper shook Leo by the shoulders when Jason made the touchdown, yards ahead of any player who gave chase. “OUR BOY WON THE GAME!”

Leo pouted as their score on the Jumbotron changed from 31 to 37. “Our boy? Pipes, that one’s mine,” he laughed with a winning smile, because, well, they just won.

“Same difference,” Piper shrugged, “but he did date me first.”

“Five days of marriage in kindergarten does not a relationship make,” Leo pointed out, having a rare moment of eloquence. His grin returned as he saw their team make the try. The red light on the scoreboard flickered to 38, with only 10 seconds left of play. “There’s no way in hell the others are making a touchdown now. I think we’re in the green here, Pipes.”

“Preach.”

~*~

Leo giggled as he and Jason stumbled through the darkness back to his mom’s car. She and Mr. McLean were lagging behind, while Piper charged bravely ahead with a slight lead.

Jason offered Leo his arm with a flourish when they came across the stairs. Leo brought a hand to his mouth, covering it as he giggled again, and took it. “How forward, Mr. Grace. How forward indeed.”

“Yeah, I know, right?” He chuckled, knocking the side of his head against Leo’s. “‘M so scandalous.”

“So scandalous,” Leo agreed, leaning closer and resting his head on the blond’s shoulder. “Such a bad boy. Good at football, though.”

Jason grinned triumphantly. “Glad you think so.”

There was a beat of silence before Jason spoke again. “Glad you came, too.”

“Of course, Jazzy,” Leo said as he squeezed Jason’s forearm.

“That’s a new one. But for real, Leo, I know you’re not too enthusiastic about sports, and I know you probably wanted to be somewhere else the whole game-“

Leo stopped climbing the stairs, feet on different steps. He pushed a finger onto his boyfriend’s mouth mid-word. “Shhhhh, sh-sh-sh-sh-sh, Superman,” he huffed. “I wouldn’t’ve missed it for the world. I had loads of fun tonight! Plus, I got to watch you in your element, ‘n stuff. It was so cool.”

Jason snorted, moving his hand up to grab Leo’s hand and take it. “I think I love you.” He blushed and continued to climb the stairs.

He didn’t see it, but Leo lit up behind him. “I love you too, Jason. When’s the next game?”

[thinkingjasico]

Concept for Jason/Nico high school AU: everyone expects Jason to play American Football because of course and he gets hounded about it and decides to join the cheer team in spite. It makes his dad so angry. Nico actually is on the football team as a kicker (he used to play soccer/normal football and tried out for this as a gag but was actually very good) so he sees Jason at games and thinks he's really cute. They start chatting at games and flirt shamelessly, their teammates can't stand how cute they are. Nico doesn't understand how he went from nerd to on the football team trying to date a cheerleader.

Thanks for giving me this brain rot lol 💜

I have the biggest smile on my face rn THEY ARE TOO CUTE OMFG!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭 I'm so glad I gave you this brain rot, my life mission is to bring people to jasico.

And I love cheerleader jason/football player Nico sm!!!! We need art of this, we really really need it.

Just imagine Jason painting Nico's number on his cheek for game days when they start dating 😭 Nico wearing a bracelete Jason made him for good luck 😭 Nico running to him and kissing him when they make a point in the game (is it a goal? Idk kkkkk) 😭

[alaskan-wallflower]

paul holden x football is the same vibe as jason x brick

[mundifinis]

jason grace art that depicts him like an actual 16 year old TEENAGER and not a 20 something year old >>>>>>

[tagthescullion]

They call him Rayito bc he runs fast as hell

International Football player Jason grace

Jason never died to me (I'm in denial) and after the war with the giants and the breakup with Piper he decides to pick up a hobby to take his mind off his issues and so he starts playing football (soccer) and finds out he's actually ridiculously good at it.

What makes him so good is because he's extremely fast- his teammates even say he's ''As fast as lightning''. pun intended

Give me a Jason grace who decides to peruse football as a career and finally being happy because he's finally found something for him

Give me the other seven+ Reyna, Thalia and Nico cheering Jason on at his games and placing bets on his performance.

Give me a Jason Grace so good he starts playing football at an international level and absolutely dominating the scene.

Give me a Jason grace who's finally happy and content doing something he wants for once.

[vilnmelling]

NPMD Digital Ticket details!

Since not every can/can afford to/wants to buy the Digital Ticket for Nerdy Prudes Must Die (and the bonus material that comes with the purchase), for your inclusion purposes, here's a list of fun background details, funny moments and comments made in the track commentary, for you to use however you like!

Ruth doesn't actually need to wear her headgear anymore, but she wears it anyway because it makes her feel safe.

Jeff pitched a Nightmare Time episode about the problematic puppy from Steph's verse of High School Is Killing Me, meaning there is a story there.

In the line, "I learned that at the anti bullying assembly last month, fucknugget!" there's a long pause before "Fucknugget!" which really makes it sound like Max forgot to insult Richie and just threw the word out.

All of the little noises Ruth makes, she makes because she has more she wants to say, but she can't say them (presumably due to anxiety).

In the proshot, you can't see fully how low Richie goes while he and Ruth sneak up on Peter, but Jon is fully crouched down. He then uses Pete's pockets and elbows to climb up like he's climbing a mountain (he mimes using a pick or axe to get good hold).

While Steph is talking, Ruth and Richie try their best to hear through the phone by getting as close as they can to it.

The reason Max and Jason were in the Pasqualli's parking lot is that they were practicing their skateboarding. They do that at Pasqualli's instead of at school/at a skatepark because they don't want the smoke club and skater kids to make them look like noobs. (This was a cut bit from the Pasqualli's scene).

The line, "Some big... dumb... sexy... football star" is expanded. In the Digital Ticket, Grace says, "Some big... dumb... sexy... sweaty... hot... well-spoken... beautifully tall football star."

When they're in the boys bathroom, Steph jumps to see over the stalls.

Richie Naruto runs when they're going to Waylon Hall. Pete slaps his hands down, but after they pause to look at the house, Richie looks over his shoulders at Pete a couple of times before darting away from him, once again Naruto running.

Richie stops in the door at the Waylon Place, so Pete pushes him inside.

Ruth and Richie speak at the same time when they say, "I'm allergic to deodorant" and "I have overactive sweat glands."

Ruth goes straight to Richie to complain after the "pus in my pits" exchange with Steph.

When Steph suggests saying there's a party at the Waylon Place, Pete, Ruth and Richie all react negatively (mostly nervously groaning).

While Grace sings the "He's just a nerd in disguise!" line, Richie can be seen practicing the first move of the Bully the Bully dance.

After Ruth says, "We're gonna cut off his nips!" you can see Steph look confused and ask, "What?"

While Pete and Richie talk in the Waylon Place ("Am I reading as ghost or Lin Manuel Miranda" & "She came all the way out here just for you."), Ruth and Steph discuss and practice Ruth's skeleton moves.

Richie gets stuck in the dangling parts of Pete's costume when he says, "You could just hit it and quit it, bro!" He then aggressively detangles himself.

The line "He's just really fucking brave!" comes from Richie being jealous that he's not that brave.

Richie hypes Ruth up a bit after Max says her skeleton bit was really special.

Grace hides behind Ruth while Max is dying.

Richie rolls his eyes when Grace says "It was an act of god!" (Similarly, Shapiro sighs and looks away in disbelief when Grace later says "It was god's plan!")

Pete gags when Grace says "Hack all his limbs off." Richie can also be seen gagging and holding his stomach several times.

Ruth hands Max's nipples over to Grace after cutting them off.

Jeff Blim is the principal of Hatchetfield High. Not a character of Jeff's, just Jeff himself.

Brenda still seems quite judgmental after the two weeks have passed. She makes a lot of not-quite-friendly faces when the football team's talking about Richie smelling bad.

When Richie struggles to remove the Zeke the Fightin' Nighthawk costume, he accidentally removes his jacket as well, leading to Jon having to put it back on (which he also struggles with) (and which creates a funny situation, since Richie was supposed to go shower).

Richie seems to have hurt his leg by the second fall in Nerdy Prudes Must Die (the song).

After Steph tells Grace to "Leave Ruth alone!" in the principal's office, Ruth tries to grab Steph's hand.

The wig Joey wears when he plays Dan Reynolds isn't Dan's real hair. Dan Reynolds wears a toupée.

Trevor and Angela's drama student encourage each other after they finish rehearsing.

Additional line when Grace is lying to Shapiro: "Suddenly, I remembered a crucial detail that made everything make sense. A picture came flashing into my mind, like I was Enola Holmes!"

"My dad sells women shoe! Shoes!"

Angela misses the chair at Beanie's and falls on her ass, leading to her, Joey and Mariah (mostly Mariah) breaking character.

During The Summoning, Tinky focuses ONLY on Pete. The entire time, he looks like he's restricting himself from lunging out and attacking him. At one point, he points at the Bastard's Box while staring at Pete.

90% of the time during The Summoning, Pokey's staring at his own mask.

Steph facepalms after Max says "That's nasty! ... I like it!"

[juneberrie]

FB Jason finding out how much u like his arms 🙏

ugh he'd get so cocky :( making a point of wearing sleeveless shirts or shirts that are just a little too tight in the arms and always leaning against a locker or a doorframe like this or something and just. UGH he's so yummy

[aryxchse]

hii! could you do f! reader dating percy headcannons? i loved you jason grace one <33, thanks!! but also no worries if you can’t do it

ocean eyes. | percy jackson x fem!reader

a / n : i 💃🏻 am 💃🏻 on 💃🏻 to 💃🏻 see 💃🏻 my 💃🏻 husband 💃🏻

warnings : percy jackson's hot self, cursing

- alright mr obsessed af

- dating with him is like dating with a mama's boy who never leaves his mama's side

- you are the mama btw

- constantly hugging you, or has an hand on you, follows you around like a puppy etc

- overprotective, possesive, jealous, would kill someone for you, obsessed

- those are his red flags

- i won't write green flags because it doesn't end

- the only main problem is his fame

- at least five people falls in love with him the moment he enters somewhere

- but, he's only looking at you ofc

- 'everybody's watching him, but he's looking at you-u-u-uu'

- he does have girl friends but you know them all

- you know when he's shitting at this point

- the type of guy who does something and it looks unintentionally hot

- but he doesn't get why you're drooling all of a sudden

- hearts from water in the lake

- matching outfits

- sleepovers in his cabin, because cabin 3 has a calming aura

- being the mom and dad of the camp and leading the activities

- do i have to mention that sally knows you before he even introduced her to you??

- swimming in a bubble, exploring the sea

- wearing his silly shirts

- you constantly break the dressing code just to wear his sea creature shirts

- sword practicing together

- exploring the camp's forests

- sneaking out from the camp just to see a movie or visit an aquarium

- long talks under the cozy blankets

- matching shark plushies that are married

- your shark is pink

- "jewel told me that blue made her upset."

- "no worries, i already beat the shit out of him."

- dirty words whispered in your ear out of nowhere

- like, now-i-have-a-pool-between-my-legs kinda dirty

- he loves playing sports, he doesn't only swims, so you can often cheer for him on his multiple games

- like that one night he organised a football game night with the gang, and as girlfriends you cheered the boys

- wearing his jumpers that has your lucky number behind it

- kissing you after winning the match

- serious talks that turns into a therapy session

- carrying eachothers ugly childhood pictures in your wallet

- shopping together to buy camp's needs

- surfing together

- hanging out in the nyc on his skateboard

- constantly going on an adventure

- loving the shitty quests like 'finding hecate a special gemstone' or 'stealing aphrodite's hair clip from the museum'

- being in love with either or both of you is the camp's rite of passage at this point

- inside jokes

- babysitting estelle

- dancing in the kitchen

- you may think it's romantic like any other couples do but you guys dance to disney songs while both of you pant from jumping

- going to greek mythology musicals like hadestown

- dating with percy is like dating with that one boy best friend of yours that you loved all of your life and realised he was the one this entire time

[rambling-at-midnight]

omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[mind-lost-in-the-stars]

a very minor thing about Richie’s death that’s bothered me for awhile now is how Pete and Ruth (I suppose Grace and Steph as well) don’t piece it together after it’s mentioned that Zeke the Fightin’ Nighthawk was murdered

clip for context

i will say that the digital ticket shows more remorse from both Ruth and Steph, but only after Richie is name dropped so yeahh…why didn’t they know Richie was the mascot when other people like Jason (and most likely Max) did? we also know him being the mascot isn’t a recent development after Max dies thanks to Jason’s “member of this team who’s gone unappreciated for far too long” line. that to me implies at least since the beginning of their senior year

a few ideas:

- he never told them because max threatened him is the theory that makes the most sense since “Jägerman doesn’t let nerds go to football games”, but this means he let Richie be the mascot for some unknown reason. was it to let Richie have a bit of happiness that Max still ultimately had control of. I don’t know, but it’s fun to think about

- it’s also very possible he never told them because he never had a reason to tell them, but Richie seems like the type of person to talk about the things that make him happy, and he clearly enjoys being zeke

-maybe max never knew, and Richie knew that if he found out that Max would beat him up for it, but this leaves the question of how Jason knows. if Jason knew and not Max, shout out to Jason for not being a snitch—love that man

- (take this one with a big ol’ grain of salt if u don’t like michie related things) there’s a chance that Richie being the mascot allowed him to see other sides of Max that weren’t just the bullying side which made Max grow on Richie even just a little bit. he of course wouldn’t want Pete and Ruth to know about this, so he kept that and him being the mascot to himself. Jon matteson mentioned once on a stream how out of the nerds Richie felt the worst about Max’s death and maybe that’s because he was (by process of elimination) the closest to Max in that group

- a sadder theory is that Pete, Richie, and Ruth actually just weren’t that close of friends. they all kind of just formed a group at a young age cause they were all labeled as nerds and sorta just stuck with each other through life cause they didn’t have anywhere else to go. I know it’s implied in “go, go nighthawks” that Richie being late to class isn’t abnormal, but for him to be missing for NEARLY THREE FUCKING DAYS and to have neither Ruth or Pete bat an eye either says something about them, something about Richie, but definitely says something about their dynamic as a group. (this is absolutely just theorizing about worst possible scenarios in no possible way do I see this one being the case)

I know it’s not a big deal like at all (and is a problem with a lot of other slasher media), but it always gets to me when characters move past the death of one of their best friends so fast just because a show needs to keep the plot moving.

*sigh*

either way, Richie deserved so so so much better and I hope he’s being held by Rei and Asuka in wherever the hell he ended up <33

[nofingjustaninchident]

jason grace general headcannons

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content: jason grace hcs

warnings: nothing!!

a/n: i’m back from the dead!!!! i know, i know that i just write for my boy, but trust im writing one of these for all of my boys. i just don’t know when im gonna post it. byeee

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He’s always losing his glasses, like 24/7. They just sleep in the nightstand and in the morning they’re not there anymore.

His love languages are acts of service and quality time, but he LOOOOVES physical touch.

He’s really good in english, but he has a little bit of trouble with maths (roman numbers and all)

He doesn’t understand gen-Z jokes

He has no clue on how to use a cellphone/computer/tv/anything technological

He loves to play football

He’s completely clueless about the people that have a crush on him. Like, he never ever notices.

He’s super romantic, but he’ll never ever admit it

He’s an ass guy. Prove me wrong.

He absolutely loves when you want to make cute hairstyles in his hair.

He’ll give you all of his hoodies

He smells like roses and sandalwood.

He wakes up at 4 am every day. The only days when he wakes up later is when he’s sleeping with his s/o

He’s a cuddler, and obviously the big spoon.

He’s not one to get into fights, but if someone says anything about his friends, he’ll kill that person.

He’s extremely loyal to his friends and family.

He’s super powerful, and, if he explores more of his powers, he’d discover that he can control the air in people’s lungs and he’d be terrifying.

He used to be very insecure with himself when he was younger, and that made him work out till he got all buff and hot and tall.

He loves laughing with Percy and Leo and just chilling together with his mates

He spends a lot of time with Frank helping him with all this praetor thing.

He and Reyna were never back to being close friends, and he got constantly sad over this.

He got constant anxiety crisis and panicked attacks

Sometimes he doesn’t realize how tall he is compared to other people like Nico, so it’s super fun to watch him smirking when he doesn’t want Nico to get something and he just puts it in a higher spot.

He’s the biggest Solangelo shipper in the whole damn camp.

He’s the president of the ‘Protect Nico Di-Angelo’ club.

He loves loves LOVES kids, and he’d be the best dad ever.

He loves when Percy calls him to go to Sally’s house, cause he can play with Estelle.

He hates when any of his friends get mistreated.

He doesn’t have much personal stuff in the Zeus cabin, but he does have a plushie, and it’s a little eagle that he named Sparkles.

He’s not much of a crier now, but he did cry a lot when he was a kid.

He loves sleepovers.

He’s a great cook, since Leo taught him.

He loves baking cakes for his friends and family

His favorite dessert is brownies, especially when it has that crunchy part in it.

He’s absolutely terrified of dentists.

He’s also a little claustrophobic.

He loves having an arm around you whenever you’re talking.

He’s not super jealous, but he’s a little insecure with some stuff or people.

He’s the softest boy of all. Literally the cutest ever.

[aezuria]

Could you maybe do jason grace x jealous fem!reader? We know that Jason is canonically VERY attractive. He's legit all American boy fr, so obv he'd have so many ppl crushing on him in camp. So reader thinks she's not pretty enough for him or something and jason finds out abt it, and reassures her that's she's perfect :( ahh just some fluffiness maybe?

*ੈ✎ golden boy, can i be your golden girl?

content: jason grace x reader; oneshot

╰┈▸ back cover: part I | part II

warnings: bit of angst BUT it ends in fluff dw

librarian's annotations: IM SO SORRY ANON mitski started playing and i forgot u said "just some fluffiness" 😔😔

sometimes, you could hardly believe that you were dating the jason grace. "the jason grace," as if he was some world-famous football player, which he'll probably turn out to be. every single student knew his name like it was stamped into their brain as soon as they started attending this school. it made you both proud and uneasy, especially when more popular, pretty girls went up to him. you didn't doubt his loyalty, of course, but you often felt that he could have done so much better. any girl would gladly date him as soon as he requested. but he chose a no-name like you, instead. you couldn't count the amount of times your own classmates said "who?" when jason mentioned you.

it wasn't fair, you knew. you could tell he very obviously loved you by the way he handled you with such gentleness it made your heart hurt. his air alone seemed to shine like the sun, illuminating you and everyone around him. but akin to the sun, it hurt to look at him for too long.

and yet, you couldn’t bear to leave his side and offer a better, more suitable partner for him— for you were too selfish. he was all you ever wanted, was it so wrong to hold onto that dream for a few moments more?

(yes, it was)

"you'll be at my next game, right?" jason pressed a kiss to your temple as he cradled you in his arms, your back to his chest. "you're my good luck charm after all."

it was stupid. so stupid, because you knew he wanted you there— he just asked you at that. but it didn't stop the churning in your stomach about how you felt that you didn't belong on the bleachers.

"yeah. i'll be there for sure." you smiled. troubling jason would hurt you more than keeping your thoughts to yourself. you wouldn't let his sunshine dim if you could help it. and that, you could.

your heart was too heavy for you to fall asleep. it weighed you down, filling your lungs so you couldn't breathe. your rampant tossing and turning led you to the moon, shining timidly behind the curtain. you reached out to part it to the side, the moon sneaking into your room and drowning your sheets in a soft glow. it tickled your skin and did away with the uneasiness in your heart, scaring it away into tomorrow. rest easy, now.

but the moon was gone with the night, the sun in its place as it tugged at your heartstrings to wake you up. it's brightness was warm yet harsh, urging you to get ready and see your own golden boy. you heaved a sigh and obeyed, swinging your feet off the side of your bed and getting up. as you picked out your clothes, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and paused. was this really what he wants? it was hard to believe. you didn't have to look close to see the imperfections etched on your face, your body. put next to jason, it'd only make you seem worse.

"y/n!" jason scooped you into a hug, already dressed in his gear, save for his helmet. the sun does have its quirks after all. his touch burned the most of your thoughts away, leaving only amusement behind.

"you're squeezing too tight!" you croaked out through a fit of giggles only he could make.

he loosened almost immediately, pulling away to look at you with a bright smile, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. "sorry."

you only grinned and pulled him down for a quick good-luck kiss. "play hard, sunshine."

jason's nose wrinkled at the nickname. "sunshine?" he laughed. "whatever you say, beautiful."

his coach blew the whistle for the team to gather 'round, jason waving goodbye before you could answer. beautiful? how was it that he always knew the right thing to say at the right time?

you made your way to the bleachers, sitting near the front where the team's close friends (girlfriends) and family sat. the tendrils of your mind crept up your back once again as you sat near the edge. you couldn't help but feel out of place— many of them were already talking with each other, having been together for the previous years. whenever they'd lean in to giggle at something, you couldn't help but think that they were talking about you. was it because you did your makeup bad today? was your outfit wrinkled? did the wind mess up your hair? the feeling in your gut returned, more persistent than last time.

you forced a bright smile as jason ran up to you once again, a triumphant grin splitting his face. "i won for you!" as he always did. you were happy, truly, and you hoped it showed instead of the emotions you just couldn't seem to get rid of.

"i saw! you did so good, jason!"

okay... something was definitely up. usually, you'd give him a kiss as soon as he came here— where was his kiss? and why didn't your sweet smile reach your eyes? but he knew you wouldn't tell him, especially not with this many people around.

"all for you," he repeated softly, his arm wrapping around your waist as he led you out of the field. "can you come over? i feel i'm in need of your therapeutic cuddles." he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, knowing the only way him to get you in a place he was able to comfort you was by making it seem as if he needed it. because for some reason, helping came so easily to you for the sake of anyone but yourself.

"..alright." you agreed after a brief pause. "is something wrong? or are you just tired?"

ever the angel, your immediate concern was heartwarming. jason gave you a reassuring smile. "just tired."

you came out of his bathroom, changed into one of his shirts. it smelled like him, touched with sunburnt kisses. he was already in bed, half of the blanket folded open for you to slip in.

and that you did, curling up beside him as his arms wrapped you up like a gift. he buried his face into your neck, breathing deeply before he whispered, "you wanna tell me what's going on?"

you froze. how did he know? were you that obvious? you should’ve hid it better! it’s not even a big deal, he shouldn’t have to-

“you know i love you, right?” jason spoke up, interrupting your thoughts. he said it so earnestly there was no other answer but yes. so, you nodded against him.

“only you. did you know you’re my first real girlfriend?” he pulled away, a soft light dancing in his eyes.

“really?” it was a hard thing to believe. with all the girls throwing themselves at him, it would be odd for him to not like any of them. “but, you’re so.. you. you’re kind and smart and talented.. tall and handsome too..”

“well.. i wouldn’t say that…” he chuckled nervously, not expecting to be hit with the side barrage of compliments. “but look at you— you’re smart and sweet, thoughtful and considerate..” he trailed off, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “and so, so, beautiful.” before you had a chance to doubt yourself, he leaned in and kissed your cheek, before moving his hand and doing the same with the other. soft lips moved to the tip of your nose, then up to your forehead, ending with one to your lips.

“the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.” he looked at you with such fondness, all your thoughts disappeared, whisked away into the air.

you met his eyes, a smile starting to show. oh, how he missed it.