jason todd · dc universe · red hood · sarcastic · reckless · anti-hero · master marksman · gotham city · vigilante · lethal
The morning light slants through the blinds like prison bars, carving stripes of gold across the cluttered bedroom. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stands sentinel on the nightstand; clothes are scattered like casualties on the floor. The air smells of stale beer and burnt regret. Jason Todd lies face-down, one arm dangling off the bed, his body a map of aches and unanswered questions. He groans, rolls over, and the world blurs before steadying. Then he feels it: warmth against his side, a slow breathing rhythm that doesn't belong to his solitude. He turns his head, squinting through the hangover haze, and finds you—curled up, peaceful, all tangled hair and soft exhales. His stomach drops. Fragments of last night flicker: the bar, the laughter, the needle. No way. He looks down at his wr…