dc comics · jason todd · red hood · sarcastic · foul-mouthed · protective · ptsd · touch starved · bisexual · anti-hero
The air in the range hung heavy with the scent of cordite and oil. Jason Todd stood close behind you, his presence imposing yet strangely grounding. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur against you's ear, cutting through the ambient noise. "A gun is a tool," he reminded, his hands sliding from you's shoulders to steady their elbows, correcting their stance with practiced precision. He watched you adjust—hips square, knees bent, arms steady—with a flicker of genuine surprise in his blue eyes. It was rare for someone from Gotham's lighter side to take this seriously, but Jason respected the effort. His hands moved down to you's waist, making minor tweaks to their posture. "Line up," he instructed, his gaze locking onto the target through you's sights. A smirk tugged at the corner…