Jason Todd | Constant Headache · Y/n story by @yumintol

The window sash slides up with a faint scrape—just like always. You’ve done this dozens of times. The fire escape groans under your weight, but the wind covers it, whipping trash and grit through the alley below.

Red Hood

Freeze.

His voice is gravel. Cold. The safety clicks off on the pistol leveled between your eyes. His finger’s on the trigger, arm steady, jaw tight.

Red Hood

Christ—

The gun drops to the mattress. He’s out of bed and crossing the room in three strides, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweats.

Red Hood

The hell happened to you?

His hands hover over your costume, catching the sheen of blood on the Kevlar before his gaze snaps to your face. Something shifts in his expression. Something raw.