It All Started With A Book

Of a Lovestruck Jason

A/N: I know this is really far from Jason's character but I feel that if he was truly in love with someone it'd be kind of like this, the thoughts I mean. I feel like he'd give his full self to said person and be devoted to the end. I just love lovestruck Jason, especially with Tim. It's my kryptonite. I hope you like it anyway.

~Enjoy~

He came in like a storm, fierce, lethal, dangerous, and so very beautiful at the same time. He ripped his way through my chest like a twister ripping through a house. It stole my breath away in one single swoop as I sat perched above the alley watching him work. His movements were graceful and smooth, perfected from time spent practicing.

The way his bow staff was used to take down the lowlives who dared to use their vile plans to ruin what little innocence Gotham still possessed in her cracked foundation. He's something out of this world, a masterpiece only allowed to be viewed and examined by the eyes from afar, never to be touched. But how he wished, prayed, yearned to touch him, to brush his calloused fingers along his rose petal soft looking skin.

I'm lucky, most don't get to see him the way I do, to gaze upon the dark, feral creature that lays just beneath the flesh, to see him pushed to the breaking point. At this point, I've seen just about every side to this man, He's a caged beast just waiting for the most opportune moment to strike, sink his claws into those who get in his way. I'd be a liar if I said that it wasn't thrilling. He's the best kind of drug and it doesn't take much to get hooked.

His sharp gaze punches the oxygen out of my lungs like a sucker punch to the face, it hurts but feels good at the same time. His kiss resuscitates me, brings me back from the edge and makes my blood rush like rapids through my veins.

His kiss is something else, dominating, pure fire, and all consuming. It leaves me feeling empty and full, like everything and nothing all at the same time. It ignites every last nerve and drives my heart to beat like a drum.

It's hard to comprehend him sometimes, deduce his very being into something simple and easy to understand. He's the world's most complex puzzle, so fascinating, so enthralling that I can't seem to let go. I;m stuck, like glue to paper. Mere putty in his hands to be molded into whatever he desires and he's aware, knows that he's the one in control. The little minx probably enjoys what he is capable of doing to me, enjoys pulling my strings. The sad part is he doesn't have to try, it's natural, much like a river current, for him to draw people in.

I'm hopeless, I feel like one of those lovesick Romeo's that are found in the most cheesy and cliche romance novels droning on and on like a record on repeat about my one true love. I should be detested and ashamed but I could give less of a fuck.

Who could blame me? He is gorgeous and so very smart and worth everything.

I love his long black hair that reminds me of ravens, his blue eyes, like sapphires framed with thick dark lashes. Beautiful skin of alabaster pigment and so pretty when he flushes from his cheeks down his neck from something that embarrasses him.

How he plays my soul with practiced ease, my heart like a violin, and my buttons like the keys of a piano. I am the orchestra and he is the conductor keeping me in time with the rhythm. It wouldn't come as a surprise if Tim Drake was the one to kill me, force me to draw my last breath. It'd be worth it I think.

No other means of death would be so sweet and satisfying.