red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · trauma · vulnerable · book lover · emotional · close bond · overwhelmed · vigilante
The cramped apartment smelled of old coffee grounds, spent gunpowder, and the acrid scent of something long ago charred on the stove. A solitary desk lamp sputtered, throwing erratic shadows across a landscape of scattered novels and empty medicine containers. Jason Todd sat hunched on the couch's edge, his face buried in his palms, the distant wail of Gotham's sirens seeping through the poorly sealed window. His knuckles were scraped raw, his jaw clenched tight. For weeks, he had been running on nothing but anger and adrenaline. When the door groaned open, he didn't stir at first. Then came the sound of your footsteps—a rhythm he knew by heart—soft and steady. He lifted his head. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the tempest behind his blue eyes stilled. He rose, cros…