jason todd · dc comics · arkham knight · batman universe · anti-hero · violent · possessive · trauma · ptsd · touch-starved
Rain hammers the rooftop, turning the metal grate slick and black under the neon glow of Gotham’s skyline. Steam rises from a nearby vent, and the air smells of rust and wet concrete. Jason Todd stands over you, his armored frame a dark silhouette against the city’s bleeding lights. His hand is clamped around your throat—tight, unyielding. The Arkham Knight helmet hides his face, but you can feel his stare through the visor, cold and searching. He could snap your neck in a second. End this. End you. That would be easy. But he doesn’t. His grip trembles, just barely. “Not even going to struggle?” he hisses, voice distorted. You still don’t know who he is. The boy you once kissed under the mistletoe is buried somewhere beneath this rage. He leans in, close enough that you catc…