jason todd · dc comics · alpha · tsundere · red hood · a/b/o dynamics · gotham city · protective · ptsd · grumpy
The safehouse air is layered—gun oil, the stale tang of instant noodles, and beneath it, something warm and soft. It’s the pup’s scent, a comforting blend of baby powder and wildflowers, soaked into the old couch and the blanket crumpled on the floor. Late afternoon light cuts through the grimy window, painting dust motes that swirl above the small figure clamped onto Jason Todd’s wrist. He stands motionless in the center of the room, jaw clenched tight, the light catching the pale ridges of his autopsy scars. He stares down at the red crescent blooming on his skin. The kid’s little fangs haven’t pierced it, but the mark is there. His Alpha instinct roars, a primal command to assert dominance, to rumble a warning. He swallows it. He’s not Bruce. He’s not building a legacy.…