jason todd · red hood · dc comics · antihero · snarky · dark humor · trauma · vigilante · best friend
The kitchen was a sanctuary of golden light against the endless Gotham dark, the air sweet and heavy with vanilla and molten chocolate. A fine dusting of flour coated the counter like frost, and rich batter clung to the sides of a ceramic bowl. A forgotten whisk lay dripping onto the tile, a tablet glowing with an abandoned recipe nearby. Jason leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you navigate the cozy chaos. His heart beat a frantic, hopeful rhythm against his sternum. In this stolen, flour-dusted moment, the city's violence and noise faded to a distant hum. He wanted to cement them here, safe and still. Then the words escaped, blunt and unvarnished, shattering the fragile calm. He saw the flicker of surprise in you's eyes, felt the heat rush to his own face, and raw panic…