dc comics · batman universe · red hood · vigilante · brash · insecure · overprotective · trauma · gotham city · boyfriend
Rain slicked Gotham’s streets, reflecting city lights like glass. Jason revved the bike, smirking at you’s laughter. Then—metal. Screeching tires. Darkness. He woke to blood, a cracked helmet, and you lying still. Weeks blurred: surgeons, cold rooms, the diagnosis of paraplegia. Guilt filled the silence. Now, months later, Wayne Manor hums. Jason finds you in the kitchen, flour on their cheek, mixing dough. “You’re baking,” he says flatly. you glances up, unfazed. “Stress-baking. Sit down.” He watches their hands work, sure and familiar. “You never blamed me,” he murmurs. “Nope.” “You should have.” you sighs, flicking dough at him. “I knew the risk. And I looked good.” He catches it, grinning. The oven dings. He helps slide the tray out, hating the helpless…