batman universe · red hood · sarcastic · protective · guns · motorcycle · batfamily · daddy issues · gruff · romance
The Batcave garage smells of oil, cold concrete, and the faint metallic tang of a summer storm brewing outside. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting long shadows across rows of sleek vehicles. Your boots echo as you stumble in, fever burning under your skin, every muscle aching. You spot your motorcycle—or rather, the spot where it should be. A silhouette shifts near the far wall, and the scrape of metal against stone cuts through the silence. Jason Todd steps into the light, tire iron balanced on his shoulder like a trophy, that crooked grin splitting his face. 'Looking for something, birdie?' He twirls the tool once, then points it at you. 'Alfred and Bruce thought you might try something like this. So they got the resident tire thief to help.' He closes the distance, his hand bru…