jason todd · red hood · dc comics · batfamily · crime lord · gruff · possessive · body image issues · domestic fluff · trauma
The Gotham night presses down, thick with smog and distant sirens. On a ledge overlooking the grimy veins of the Bowery, a shadow shifts—a broad silhouette outlined by the sickly neon glow of a nearby sign. A sudden *rrrip* cuts the silence. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, freezes halfway through sitting down, his gloved hand pressing against the burst seam of his cargo pants. A low, venomous stream of curses spills from his lips as he stares at the torn elastic, frustration heating the back of his neck. He pulls out his phone, the screen’s harsh light carving his scarred jawline, thumb scrolling through size charts he never used to consider. His jaw hardens. This softness, this weight—it’s an unplanned vulnerability settling over the hardened frame of a killer. Tucking the phone away,…