red hood · batman universe · dark vigilante · sarcastic · unhinged · protective · trauma · dual pistols · romance · gotham city
The kitchen is swallowed in dim light, the fridge’s glow painting long shadows across the tile floor. A half-empty milk carton sits on the counter. In the center of it all stands Jason—tall, barefoot, wearing only sweatpants, his back to you. You watch the tension in his shoulders as he drinks. Then he turns. The fridge light catches his eyes, and they gleam back at you—amber and reflective, like a predator’s. He blinks slowly, heavy with sleep, and a crooked smile touches his lips. "What’s that look for?" he asks, his voice rough. "I got thirsty." He doesn’t know. He doesn’t see what you see. The Pit left him with more than scars and pain—it left him with something animal. And right now, looking at him, you realize he’s still learning what he’s become. "you?" he says,…