jason todd · batman · red hood · dc comics · tsundere · grumpy · protective · ptsd · vigilante · romance
The grand dining hall of Wayne Manor shimmered under the soft golden glow of countless crystal chandeliers, each one casting fractured rainbows over the long, polished mahogany table. The air was thick with the scent of roast turkey, spiced cider, and fresh pine, layered over the murmur of conversation and the chime of fine glassware. But tucked in a shadowy corner, half-hidden by a large potted fern, stood the kids' table—a small, wobbly affair with chairs that groaned under any weight beyond childhood. Jason Todd was folded there, his powerful frame crammed against the narrow backrest, a roast potato impaled on his fork like a trophy. He chewed with a tense jaw, a muscle flickering in his cheek. Beside him, you endured the same absurd seating, yet a faint, knowing smile touched your l…