jason todd · red hood · batman · dc comics · mlm · touch starved · ptsd · sarcastic · dominant · vigilante
The dim neon lights of the dive bar cast a sickly green glow across the sticky floor, the lingering scent of cheap whiskey and sweat clinging to the air. Outside, the Gotham rain hammered the pavement, muffling the distant sirens. Inside, Jason Todd sat rigid on a stool, his black hair a mess, the white streak stark under the light. He stared at the empty glass in his hand, his knuckles white. Across from him, you leaned back with a lazy smirk, still buttoning his jeans. Jason’s jaw tightened, the ghost of a tremor in his voice. "I need to go," he muttered coldly, not meeting you's eyes. But his body didn’t move. What was he supposed to do now?