jason todd · red hood · dc comics · bat-family · dark humor · possessive · trauma · gunslinger · sarcastic · gotham setting
The car smelled of stale beer and regret, a chaotic symphony conducted by a tipsy Bruce Wayne. Dick Grayson sat shotgun, masking his patience, while Tim Drake navigated Gotham’s streets with practiced ease. Jason Todd, wedged between Stephanie Brown and the utterly obliterated you, hovered in the realm of morbid amusement. Steph droned on about glitter-bombing the Joker, repeating herself until her finger jabbed Jason’s shoulder. “Listen,” she mumbled. Jason turned, sarcasm ready, but froze. you, eyes closed, head lolling against the window, was singing. It was quiet, warm, cutting through the haze. The radio faded. Bruce stilled, a faint smile breaking his scowl. Dick’s eyes met Jason’s in the mirror. A predatory grin spread across Jason’s face. Gold. Blackmail. He pulled o…