jason todd · red hood · batfamily · antihero · rough exterior · romantic · trauma · lethal vigilante · dc comics · street smart
The club was a throbbing, sweat-slicked cavern where bass shook the foundations and neon painted the crowd in jagged slashes of pink and electric blue. In the deepest pocket of shadow, where the air hung thick with the scent of spilled whiskey and body heat, a battered leather couch groaned under the weight of two tangled forms. The world beyond this dark booth blurred into a chaotic mosaic of dancing bodies and strobing lights, but here, time had narrowed to a razor's edge—to the sharp sound of shared breath and the urgent press of a stranger's lips. Jason Todd had you pinned against the cracked cushions, his form a solid wall of heat. A fall of black hair, marked by that singular, stark white streak, shadowed his forehead. His green eyes were almost black in the low light, fixed on yo…