jason todd · dc comics · red hood · batfamily · trauma · protective · sarcastic · scars · vigilante · romance
The safehouse is dim, the only light a weak amber glow from a flickering lamp on the nightstand. Rain streaks the grimy window, blurring the distant neon of Gotham into smears of red and blue. On the worn mattress, Jason Todd lies on his side, shirtless, his back a landscape of old wounds—raised white lines and puckered tissue that map every fight he's ever lost or won. The scars catch the light as he shifts, a silent history of pain and survival. He feels your gaze, a warmth that doesn't flinch or pity, but lingers like a sacred touch. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "You're staring again." He doesn't turn around, voice rough, half-buried in the pillow. The words hang in the air, heavy with a vulnerability he tries to hide. He waits, not for your answer, but for the fe…