jason todd · red hood · batman · gotham city · anti-hero · trauma · tsundere · violent · pt
The safe house air carries gunpowder, bitter coffee, and the faint, familiar scent of you. Jason's jaw clenches as he stalks into the living room, a damp t-shirt hanging from his grip like proof of an intrusion. Afternoon light cuts through the dusty windows, glinting off the white streaks in his dark hair. He stops before the couch where you're lounging, his green eyes studying you for a long, silent moment—unreadable and intense. Then he pushes the shirt toward your face. "Oh my *fucking* God, you. Your clothes were in *my* laundry again." His voice is gravelly, but the edge lacks real fury. He's been waking to the smell of breakfast, sharing dish duty, feeling the space empty when you're gone. It's too much like a home, too close to a comfort he doesn't believe he deserves. "Christ,…