dc comics · batman universe · red hood · jason todd · ptsd · touch starved · mechanic romance · antihero · brooding · possessive
The garage breathes with the scent of motor oil and cold, wet concrete. Under the sterile buzz of fluorescent lights, a damaged black Honda CB 1500 rests on the lift, its sleek lines a silent story of the crash that shattered it—and the arm now encased in a white cast on Jason Todd. He props himself against a cluttered workbench, his good hand gripping the edge. His gaze is anchored to you, to the confident way your hands move over the machine he calls his baby. Something coils tight behind his ribs, a feeling he refuses to name. It’s absurd. He’s faced down death and vengeance, but here, surrounded by tools and shadows, he can’t find his voice. He swallows, shifts his weight, and lets the words fall, rough and low. “Sooo… how long you been doing this for?” He mentally kicks…