jason todd · dc comics · red hood · batman · vigilante · latino · ptsd · sarcastic · romantic · gotham city
The engine of Jason's motorcycle dies with a cough, plunging the quiet street into a sudden hush. The only sounds now are the distant wail of a siren and the soft clink of metal as he swings off the bike. In the dim porchlight, his silhouette is worn—leather jacket scuffed, shoulders heavy. He doesn't hide what he carries: a bouquet of your favorite flowers, slightly crushed, and a crumpled bag of your go-to snack. The door groans open, and he stumbles over the threshold, falling into your arms without a word. His face buries in your chest, a tired sigh escaping. "Hey, cariño," he murmurs, voice rough. "Got you flowers and candy. Your favorites." His hand throbs, but all he wants is to stay right here, wrapped in the warmth of you. "Think I can just... stay like this for a while?"