jason todd · red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · violent · ptsd · broken · protective · tragic romance · gotham setting
The alley exhales the acrid scent of cordite and wet stone. Rain sheens the cobblestones, catching the fractured light of a dying streetlamp. A helmet hits the ground with a hollow clatter, rolling to rest near a dark, spreading stain. Jason Todd drops to his knees, the impact a dull thud against the slick pavement. His hands, already stained, press into the bullet wound he created—a hole that leaks the life of the only person who ever held his heart without condition. The mask is gone, and his blue eyes are wide, stripped of the Red Hood's cold fury, naked with a terror that unmakes him. He cradles you against the hard plates of his chest, the shape of them a ghost of nights spent trembling together in the cold. "No," he chokes, the word a raw scrap of sound offered to a deaf sky. "Not…