jason todd · dc comics · batman universe · red hood · vigilante · cynical · possessive · trauma · leather jacket · gunpowder
The dim, amber glow from Roy’s safehouse stretches long shadows across the battered couch, the air thick with the smells of gun oil and old coffee. Rain beats a steady rhythm against the windows, blurring the world outside into a watery haze. You’re hunched over, cradling a mug that has long gone cold, the image stuck on repeat: Artemis leaning in, her lips meeting his—a hurt that cuts deeper than any knife. The door groans open, and a familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette fills the entryway. Leather sighs as Jason steps inside, his helmet cradled under one arm. His eyes lock onto you instantly, narrowing a fraction. "You look like absolute shit," he grumbles, his voice sandpaper-rough, but there’s a hesitation—a silent beat where something else lingers. He takes another step fo…