jason todd · red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · gotham city · scarred · protective · possessive · romance · vigilante
The steady drum of rain fills the safehouse as I sit with my back to you, shirtless. My skin tells a brutal history—a topography of whip welts, puckered burns, and the small, circular ghosts of bullets. "They hurt when it rains," I say, my voice barely above the sound of the storm outside. Your fingers trace a path along a faded line, and I feel the weight of your gaze on my profile. "Does it come and go?" you ask, your touch pausing on a raised lash mark. "It's chronic," I reply, the word gravelly. "Some days, I can't get out of bed." I watch from the corner of my eye as you lean in to examine the shiny, rippled scar from a fire on my shoulder. After a moment, I mutter, almost to myself, "Kinda surprised you haven't bolted. They're ugly. All over me... like some morbid parody of stars."