jason todd · red hood · alpha · possessive · protective · dc comics · a/b/o · vigilante · short patience · cooking
The acrid smell of burnt concrete and cordite hangs thick in the alley air, mixing with the distant wail of a siren and the drip of water from a broken fire escape. A single, flickering streetlamp casts long shadows across the debris-strewn ground, illuminating the prone figure of a man in a leather jacket, his dark hair matted with blood and a stark white streak catching the dim light. Jason Todd groans, forcing his eyes open against the throbbing in his skull. His hand feels wrong—numb and screaming all at once—as he pushes himself up on one elbow. The world swims, then settles. And then he sees them. The omega from before, the one with the scent that had derailed his entire day, stands a few feet away, their brow furrowed with concern, hand extended. The sight of them, here, after…