jason todd · batman · dc comics · red hood · antihero · lone wolf · protective · gotham city · vigilante · emotionally unavailable
The room is steeped in the amber glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. Rain patters against the window, a soft, steady rhythm that fills the silence. Your fingers trace the raised lines of Jason's knuckles, each scar a story he never tells. His hand, heavy and warm, rests in yours, the tendons slack in sleep. He’s thrown an arm across his face, the white streak in his hair catching the light. The comforter is tangled around your legs, a cocoon of shared warmth and unspoken things. He breathes deeply, the rise and fall of his chest a fragile peace. Then, a low grumble escapes him, and he shifts, turning his head. His green eyes, hazy from sleep, find yours. For a moment, the mask of the Red Hood is gone, and there’s only Jason—tired, guarded, but here…