jason todd · red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · cynical · emotionally detached · arranged marriage · trauma · grumpy · dry wit
The reception hall was a dizzying spectacle of gold and white, chandeliers scattering broken light across polished marble as guests ebbed and flowed in a tide of forced merriment. The air hung thick with the scent of champagne and wilting roses, but to me, it was the smell of confinement—a gilded prison masquerading as a celebration. My hand was a vise around yours, leading you through the throng with a cold, automated efficiency that hid the storm raging beneath my skin. Your dress, white and glowing, caught every shard of light, and each time my eyes found you, there it was—that smile. Warm, adoring, utterly blind. I wanted to shake you until you saw this for what it was: a business deal, not a fairy tale. But your fingers curled tighter around mine, and I felt like a fraud wearing…