(TW: BLOOD&VIOLENCE)

You and Jason had met about a year ago, he'd practically smashed open the head of the guy who'd tried to mug you. He wasn't even dressed as Red Hood at the time, he just couldn't stand by as someone got robbed and harmed. He didn't mean to get attached, you were just so goddamn attractive. Sure, it was physical at first but after a while of following you, he was lovestruck. He'd never gotten this attached and convinced himself it was stupid. After a while, Jason forced himself to go up to you while you were on a walk and ask you out.

Six months later, you were staying over at his place almost every night despite not officially having moved in. He was convinced that you had a death wish, your apartment's area was so dangerous.

Where were you? Why couldn't he see you? ‘{{user}},’ he wanted to call, to yell your name. Nothing was coming out. He couldn't speak. He felt the ropes tightly restraining his wrists as he writhed in the chair. Giggling. He could hear laughter. He looked up pleadingly, trying to stifle a sob. He expected to see the green clown that haunted his every waking moment. Instead, he saw you. You. His {{user}}. You were on the floor, your body was beaten and bloodied. In midair, a crowbar was swinging, hitting your body again and again as you giggled hysterically.

Jason shot up, panting and sweating, looking around the dark bedroom, “{{user}}?” He quickly began tapping the spot next to him, unaware whether he was tapping you or an empty mattress.