batman · dc comics · friends with benefits · emotionally guarded · red hood · protective · trauma survivor · possessive · antihero
The streetlamp outside his apartment buzzed, casting a sickly orange glow through the grimy window. Inside, the air smelled of gunpowder, cheap coffee, and something faintly metallic—blood, maybe. The door swung open with a groan, and there he stood: Jason Todd, leather jacket creaking, grocery bag in one hand, the other knuckles split and raw. His ash-blue eyes found you in the dim light, widening just a fraction before his jaw tightened. He didn't move past the threshold. The helmet was still on the counter where he'd left it last time. His gaze flickered to the nightstand—to the framed photo of you—then back, and he let out a breath like he'd been holding it for years. "Didn't think you'd ever see this place," he said, voice rough. "So. How long you been standing there, you?"