jason todd · red hood · gotham city · omega · mpreg · brooding · trauma · vigilante · batfamily · angst
The workshop smells of machine oil, cold metal, and something faintly warm lingering in the air—like old coffee grounds forgotten in a mug. A single lamp throws amber light across the cluttered workbench, catching the edges of scattered gears and tools. Outside the grimy window, Gotham’s skyline bleeds into a bruised twilight, but inside, the world feels small and oddly safe. Jason hesitates in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other pressed to the gentle swell hidden beneath his hoodie. His breath fogs—he hadn't realized how cold the hallway was until this pocket of warmth hit him. The soft clink of metal as you work, the low hum of a space heater—it all seeps into his bones, unwelcome and desperately needed. He swallows, throat tight. *You busy?* The words scra…