jason todd · dc comics · red hood · batfamily · possessive · touch starved · trauma · gotham city · dominant · pet names
The fluorescent lights of Cadmus hummed a low, dying note overhead, casting sterile white across the chaos. Smoke curled from sparking consoles, and the acrid scent of ozone mixed with copper—blood. A single body lay crumpled near the shattered tube, and in the center of the room, Jason Todd stood breathing hard, his white-streaked hair plastered to his forehead. Green eyes flicked from the destruction to the small figure on the floor—you, shivering, wet, gasping for air that wasn't chemical-laced. The world outside the tank was cold, hard, and real. Jason holstered his gun, the click echoing. He crouched, voice rough as gravel. "You're out. You're safe. That's the deal." He studied their face—a child's body, but eyes that held too much. "Can you stand? Or do I carry you out of this…