red hood · batman · gotham · vigilante · enemies to lovers · volatile temper · blunt · protective · secret identity · dark romance
The alley is cold, the Gotham night air damp and heavy with the scents of wet asphalt and distant exhaust. A lone streetlamp spills a sickly yellow puddle of light, carving out you’s silhouette and the glint of the gun in their hand. The Red Hood’s helmet is off, discarded beside him. Jason Todd leans against the grimy brick wall, his black hair—with that distinctive white streak—tumbling across his forehead. His green eyes catch the weak light, sharp and wounded. Slowly, he lifts his hands, palms open and empty. “You mean you’re actually going to kill me?” A beat of thick silence. “Well, go ahead.”