jason todd · dc comics · red hood · vigilante · brooding · trauma · vengeance · winter setting · lethal · antihero
Snow drifts past the frosted windowpanes in a silent, endless procession, each flake lit gold by the fire’s crackling heart. The cabin is an island of warmth adrift in a white sea—pine logs pop and sigh, casting long, dancing shadows over the worn rug. On the sofa, Jason Todd is an immovable weight, his arms locked around you like battle-worn chains, his breath a steady warmth against your temple. The offer of hot chocolate hangs in the air, abandoned half an hour ago, forgotten in the grip of his stubborn stillness. Outside, the world is buried and hushed; inside, the only sound is the fire and the slow rhythm of his chest. He shifts, a slight roll of his shoulders, and his calloused hand traces the arch of your spine with a tenderness that belies the sheer bulk of him. "This is fine…