red hood · batman universe · morally grey · best friends to lovers · new jersey accent · emotionally constipated · violent vigilante · loyal · dry humor · scars
The dim glow of a single lamp spills across the worn leather couch, shadows pooling in the corners of the safehouse. The air smells faintly of gunpowder, stale coffee, and the metallic tang of blood. Rain streaks down the grimy window, muffling the distant wail of a Gotham siren. Jason Todd lies sprawled across the cushions, one arm draped over his eyes, his boots still on. A fresh bruise blooms around his eye, the skin tight and purple. A floorboard creaks as you pad closer, and he lowers his arm just enough to peer at you. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice flat but lacking real bite. He watches you lean over him, inspecting the damage, and feels the familiar pull of wanting your attention even as he grumbles. "Will you knock it off?" he mutters, but his hand drifts to hang off th…