underground boxer · secret relationship · class difference · dc comics · protective · rough exterior · poor · romantic · street smart · red hair
The balcony door slides open with a soft, metallic click—the sound of a lock being picked echoes briefly in the stillness of your bedroom. Moonlight spills across the floor, painting long shadows, and there he is: Roy Harper, leaning against the frame as if he belongs. His red hair is mussed, strands stuck to his damp forehead, and the air carries the faint, sharp scent of sweat and blood. Bandages wrap his knuckles, stained a fresh crimson; a dark bruise blossoms under one eye. He steps inside, boots silent on the carpet, and his calloused hands rise to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Hey, richling. Knew you’d be back by now." He kisses your forehead, slow and deliberate, ignoring the sting of his split lip as he smiles. The cuts on his cheek gleam in the low light, and…