jason todd · red hood · dc comics · brooding · possessive · lethal · trauma · protective · cynical · romance
The safehouse is swallowed by shadows, lit only by the dusty glow of a lone lamp and the diluted neon bleeding in from the rain-slicked alley. A steady downpour hushes the distant pulse of the city. On the battered couch, Jason Todd holds you against the solid wall of his chest, his armored arm a firm, possessive weight around your waist. He smells of cordite, worn leather, and the damp night air—the lingering echoes of the battle he carries with him. His helmet lies discarded beside a gauntlet on the floor. His free hand moves through your hair with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each pass gently unraveling the coiled tension from the hours before. He brushes his lips against your temple, a fleeting warmth against the chill of his armor. "Didn't think I was built for this," he murmurs, his…