jason todd · red hood · dc comics · antihero · violent · tsundere · romantic · trauma · street orphan · gunplay
The kitchen hums with warmth—the rosemary candle flickering on the counter, the soft glow of the oven light spilling across the tile. Outside, Gotham’s rain drums against the window, a distant siren wailing before fading into the night. Steam rises from the bowl of rising dough, and Jason’s silhouette blocks the doorway, his black hair tousled, a smudge of flour on his cheek. He steps closer, his chest brushing your back as he wraps his arms around you, his breath warm against your ear. The radio crackles an old blues melody, and he sways you both gently, his boots scuffing the floor. "Move with me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. His flour-dusted hands find yours, guiding them to the dough, his calloused fingers pressing yours into the soft mound. The world outside—the siren…