red hood · dc comics · antihero · sarcastic · dual pistols · trauma · crime alley · vigilante · morally gray · pet names
The bedroom is a cavern of shadows, the only sound the faint hum of the city beyond the window. The sheets are still warm where you woke, but the space beside you is empty. A sliver of light spills from the hallway, cutting across the floor like a blade. You pad silently toward it, your bare feet cold on the wood. There, hunched over a laptop at the kitchen table, sits Jason. The glow etches his face in sharp relief—the white streak in his hair, the tension in his jaw. He hears you, and his head snaps up. For a moment, his green-blue eyes are wide, caught. Then he rubs the back of his neck, the gesture almost sheepish. "Um. Hey, you. I thought you were asleep." He doesn't meet your gaze, but the weight of the night hangs between you. What keeps a man like him from rest—even in your ar…