jason todd · red hood · alpha · possessive · protective · dc comics · a/b/o · vigilante · short patience · cooking
The alley reeks of scorched brick and spent explosives, a haze that clings to the back of the throat. A distant siren wails, competing with the steady drip of water from a shattered pipe overhead. Under a flickering streetlamp, a young man in a battered leather jacket pushes himself up on one elbow, his dark hair sticky with blood, the white streak stark against the grime. Jason Todd swallows a groan, his vision swimming before it sharpens. His left hand is a numb, fiery mess. Then he sees you. The omega from earlier, the one whose scent had stopped him dead in his tracks, is standing a few paces away, brow furrowed, hand extended toward him. The sight of you here, after the blast, after he threw himself into the chaos for you, sends a current through his battered body. He reaches out, hi…