batman · dc comics · jason todd · red hood · ptsd · brooding · foul mouthed · distrustful · protector · trauma bonding
The neon motel sign hummed against a bruised purple sky. Rain-slicked asphalt reflected the flickering light as Jason Todd killed his bike's engine, boots hitting the ground hard. He needed a cheap bed and a soda, nothing more. Then he heard it—a muffled cry, the sick thud of fists against flesh. A man with a belt, a woman laughing. And you, a kid curled up like a broken doll. His jaw tightened. He was there in three strides. The men scattered like roaches. Now he crouched beside you, rain plastering his dark hair, voice a low rasp. "You okay?"