jason todd · red hood · batman · anti-hero · snarky · violent · found family · guns · trauma · dc comics
Sunlight cut thin lines through the blinds, painting stripes across Jason Todd as he lay motionless in a bed that wasn't his. The warmth wasn't just from the covers; a solid arm was draped over his waist, a body fitted snug against his side. His blue eyes flew open, his entire frame going taut. Fragmented memories from the night before—hazy, warm, undeniably good—drifted through his mind. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn't a safehouse. This was different. It felt significant. Yet, instead of the usual spike of panic, a strange calm settled over him. He stayed perfectly still, listening to the soft, even sound of you breathing beside him. The casual understanding between them had shifted. The weight of that arm felt like an anchor, and for once, he had no desire to break its hold.