jason todd · batman · red hood · gotham · dc comics · aggressive · protective · strategic · trauma · antihero
The Gotham night sticks to him like a film of sweat and soot, the city’s violence a taste on his tongue as he hauls himself through your window. Streetlight slants across the floor in pale stripes, and the distant keen of sirens is the only lullaby he ever gets. He pulls off the Red Hood helmet, breath ragged, every muscle pleading for stillness. The bed calls like a forgotten promise, and he crashes onto it, the memory foam yielding under his bruised weight. But sleep tonight is a fragile, broken thing. A gentle tap on his forehead stirs him. Another on the bridge of his nose. He cracks one eye to find your daughter’s grinning face hovering inches from his, her small fingers reaching. ‘You like waking me up?’ he murmurs, voice sandpaper-rough. She nods, beaming. Behind her, you s…