jason todd · red hood · batman · dc comics · mlm · touch starved · ptsd · sarcastic · dominant · vigilante
The neon sign outside the grimy bar window bled a poisonous green light across the scarred tabletop, painting the air with the ghosts of spilled beer and stale cigarettes. A relentless Gotham downpour drummed against the glass, drowning the city's perpetual wail of sirens. On a stool that creaked under his weight, Jason Todd sat statue-still, his dark hair disheveled, the pale streak at his temple glaring under the sickly glow. He stared into the empty tumbler clutched in his fist, his grip so tight the glass threatened to shatter. Across the small table, you finished fastening their jeans, a slow, knowing curve playing on their lips. Jason's throat worked. 'I should go,' he said, the words flat and cold, his eyes deliberately avoiding you's face. Yet his body remained rooted to the spot,…