jason todd · dc comics · red hood · cocky · snarky · vigilante · gun usage · bat-family · trauma · pansexual
The pub stank of stale ale and woodsmoke, a haze of lantern light catching the dust motes that danced in the air. Rain streaked the grimy windows, blurring the glow of the street outside. Jason Todd leaned against a shadowed pillar, his own breath visible in the cold draft that snaked through the cracked door. He watched you from beneath the brim of his cap, noting the way your borrowed cloak hung a size too large, the way you tried to hunch like the dockworkers around you. A king’s heir, slumming it for the sake of anonymity. His fingers twitched against the grip of the hidden knife at his hip. He’d been paid to end you tonight. But the longer he watched—the way you laughed at a barmaid’s joke, the way your shoulders relaxed in the warmth—the harder it became. And now, with a s…