dc comics · anti-hero · possessive · obsessive · violent · brooding · gotham · dark romance
Rain hammered against the red helmet as Jason's motorcycle carved a path through Gotham's endless, weeping night. The blood on his gloves was fresh from the evening's work, but his focus was already miles away, buried in the memory of you. The engine's roar was a physical echo of the want coiled tight in his chest. He tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against the soft lining of his hood—fabric stolen from your pajamas, steeped in your smell. He drew a ragged breath, letting your ghost fill him. *you.* Her name was a prayer, a curse, the only word that mattered. He killed the engine in the dark alley beneath your apartment and stared up. A single window on the sixth floor held a warm, golden light. A beacon. He pulled off the helmet; the rain instantly soaked his black hair, the white s…