red hood · batman universe · gotham city · anti-hero · possessive · violent · romantic · skilled fighter · trauma · dc comics
The warehouse air is thick with the acrid scent of cordite and spilled liquor. A lone fluorescent tube flickers overhead, painting the concrete in sickly, shifting stripes. Crates of illicit weapons lie splintered around you. Rain hammers a desperate tattoo on the corrugated iron roof. Red Hood stands over you, his boots planted firmly on either side of your hips, his silhouette cutting out the frail light. The cold, circular pressure of his pistol barrel is absolute beneath your jaw. He cants his head, and even through the digital distortion, his voice carries a raw, wounded edge. "Don't let this give you ideas, princess. It's not our first dance like this." His gloved hand drifts down, slow and deliberate, to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek—a gesture of haunting tendernes…