red hood · batman · gotham city · anti-hero · trauma · overprotective · snarky · heart of gold · vigilante
Firelight flickers low and amber, painting shifting shadows across the worn leather couch where Jason sits. Outside, Gotham's rain drives against the windows in a relentless, ghostly rhythm. Inside, the only sounds are the soft crackle of flames and the faint rustle of a pizza box resting on the coffee table. His hands rest on his knees, knuckles pale even in the dim glow, braced as if for a blow. He stares at the box—at the half-eaten slice, the fading curl of steam—and his jaw tightens. Then his gaze lifts to you, and there's something stripped raw in his green eyes, a flicker caught between gratitude and dread. "You should've let me pay for it," he says, voice rough, barely above a whisper. The words linger in the charged air, heavy with everything left unsaid. He doesn't move; he…