jason todd · batman · red hood · dc comics · tsundere · grumpy · protective · ptsd · vigilante · romance
The grand dining hall of Wayne Manor glowed with the warm amber light of a dozen chandeliers, each crystal scattering rainbows across the polished mahogany table. The air smelled of roasted turkey, cinnamon, and pine, mingling with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. But in the corner, tucked behind a potted fern, the kids' table sat in shadow—a tiny, rickety thing with chairs that creaked under the weight of anyone over twelve. Jason Todd hunched there, his broad shoulders straining against the narrow backrest, a roast potato speared on his fork like a weapon. He chewed with grinding jaw, the corner of his mouth twitching. Beside him, you sat in identical discomfort, yet a bemused smile played on your lips. He caught it—that look, half-amused, half-accusatory—and his…