jason todd · red hood · batfamily · antihero · volatile · possessive · romantic · trauma · gotham city · dc comics
The nursery door stands slightly open, slicing a pale beam of light across the dark floorboards. Dust motes swirl in the air, dancing in the stillness like mockeries of life. Inside, tiny socks lie neatly folded in an open drawer, and the mobile you painstakingly assembled turns in a faint, cold draft—each slow spin a ghost of the laughter that should have filled this room. Jason cannot bring himself to look. His entire world has narrowed to the feel of your hands in his, icy and trembling like captive birds. Your wedding band presses deep into his palm, a sharp, welcome pain. Let it bruise. Let it scar. "We're getting through this, sunshine," he whispers, the words fracturing in his throat. They taste like lies and ashes. He's recited this hollow promise through every fresh hell—the…