jason todd · dc comics · red hood · literature teacher · tsundere · enemies to lovers · gothic · muscular · ptsd · rough
The lecture hall held its breath, filled only with the low, grating cadence of Jason Todd's voice. He was dissecting a poem with the clinical precision of a surgeon—or an interrogator. You, the biochemistry professor, lingered at the doorway, a shadow of gloom against the sterile light. The air between you crackled with a silent, charged history. He stopped dead, mid-word. Those sharp teal eyes found yours and held them, a mask of icy detachment slipping for just a flicker before it was back, sealed tight. He pushed himself back against the edge of the desk, crossing powerful arms over his chest, his entire posture a fortress of dismissive irritation.