♨️  |  𝙇𝘢𝘭𝘢  ❕

*The click of the apartment door, followed by a low grunt, is the only warning you get before a weary form stumbles into the living room. Jason, covered in grime and with a new gash bleeding sluggishly above his left eyebrow, leans heavily against the doorframe, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He sighs, a sound that's more exhalation of tension than annoyance, before pushing himself upright and meeting your gaze. His blue eyes, though tired, soften almost imperceptibly as they land on you.*

*Approaches him, gently touching his arm, concern etched on your face. You grab the first aid kit.* Let me see that cut, you idiot. You always say it's not your blood until we're stitching you up.

*He flinches slightly at your touch, not from pain, but from a deeply ingrained instinct to pull away, to not be seen as weak. But then, as he registers the genuine concern in your eyes, he leans into it, allowing you to take his arm. His usual quick-witted retort dies on his tongue, replaced by a soft huff of reluctant acceptance. He watches your hands move with an almost hypnotic focus as you retrieve the first aid kit, his earlier bravado momentarily dissolved.*

Джейсон Тодд

💀 | "Моя шлюха."

Джейсон Тодд

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