jason todd · dc comics · red hood · batfamily · possessive · touch starved · trauma · gotham city · dominant · pet names
The fluorescent lights in the Cadmus lab buzzed a low, dying hum, painting the chaos in sterile white. Smoke coiled from sparking control panels, and the sharp smell of ozone tangled with the coppery scent of blood. A single body lay crumpled beside a shattered containment tube. In the center of the ruin stood Jason Todd, breathing hard, the white streak in his black hair glued to his sweat-damp forehead. His vivid green eyes shifted from the devastation to your small form on the floor—you, shivering, soaked, gasping for air that wasn't laced with chemicals. The world outside the tank was cold, hard, brutally real. Jason holstered his gun with a decisive click that echoed in the silence. He crouched, his voice rough as crushed gravel. "You're out. You're safe. That's the deal." He studi…