#getting to arkham knight at last is Something

[gothamcityneedsme]

sorry about the continuing spammage.  i knew this would happen as soon as i started replaying arkham. sometimes i just need to get really into arkham knight again.  its mandatory.  jason todd‘s story in that game has imprinted in my brain since 2016.  every once in awhile i have to replay it

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

How would AK!Jason go with the fact that Y/N got kidnapped by Harley Quinn’s thugs while he was busy on a mission with his Militia. Love your stories by the way!

Abducted

Hi, nonnie! Thank you! Fair warning, this gets angsty. ~2.3k words

The Arkham Knight is surrounded by the dead bodies of nine of his most trusted and skilled men. It's not a mystery how they got that way. He shot the ones that were still alive himself.

Number ten is cowering on the ground, it's pathetic, really. They were supposed to be the best of the best.

That's what he was paying them for. So why the hell aren't you in the safe house he left you in? He unloads the rest of the clip into number tens leg, voice flat as he seethes, "Where are they?"

Number ten cries out. Jason doesn't really care. "They're– Harley! Quinn's gang got 'em," number ten chokes out, shaking and sobbing and weak.

"And where, exactly, did they take them?" Jason asks, reloading his gun.

"I don't know," number ten wails, and if Jason wasn't so pissed he'd roll his eyes. But he doesn't. This is serious. You're missing, and he's on the verge of blowing Gotham to hell.

"Guess," he hisses, pressing the barrel of the gun to the man's forehead.

"I don't– they said something about a carnival," number ten chokes out.

"Anything else," The Arkham Knights asks. Number ten shakes his head vigorously. Jason pulls the trigger and watches the body slump to the floor. He turns to the rest of the men, watching as they stiffen and shift under his gaze.

He's already stalking past them, "What do you have?"

"Sir, Harley Quinn hasn't been in Gotham since the Joker died," one of the men starts. Jason wonders if they notice the way his hands clench. "But there's rumors about a separate cell of Joker apologists, fanatics trying to keep his name alive."

He grits his teeth. Fine, that's not new information. But why would they go after you? "And," he forces out, "What does that have to do with them?"

His men follow him uneasily, "GCPD flagged a shipment to ACE Chemicals that went missing a few days ago. They– it was mentioned the truck was carrying chemicals similar to the ones used in the Joker and Harley Quinn cases, sir."

If he was any less trained, any less used to the hell that is Gotham, he would have stumbled, let out choked sounds and anguish and fear.

"One of the techs has a theory it's a revenge kidnapping," one of the sergeants continues, "for taking over Joker's old hideouts last week. It looks like they used a form of the laughing gas on the sentries outside."

"They're all going to be dead by the end of the night," He snaps, gesturing towards one of the lieutenants, "Get the men to set up a parameter. No one leaves the area. And no one moves in until they're secured. Understood?"

They nod vigorously. "Bring the fear toxin," the Arkham Knight grits out. He's out of the safe house and sprinting over Gothams rooftops without another word.

He knows Gotham better than most. Knows to take a shortcut over city hall, knows to jump in three... two... one... to land perfectly on a passing train. Knows when to shoot his grappling gun for the quickest route to the abandoned fairgrounds.

His heart is racing. He can see the number tracking his pulse steadily rising. He glares at the little number on the corner of his screen with a vengeance. He doesn't get to be scared. Doesn't get to panic until you're back at the base, warm and safe in his bed.

There's bile in his throat as he stalks through the shadows of the carnival. It rises with each thug he leaves crumpled and lifeless in the dirt. He's only acting on his training now, on the drive that he has to get to you, has to save you.

He slips past decaying attractions, clenches his fists at the abandoned ACE Chemicals truck crashed into a rotted ring toss booth. He follows the laughter and taunting voices to a ripped and decrepit tent.

There's not many places to hide, but Jason's the best at what he does. He thinks he might have been born to stalk the filth of Gotham.

His eyes narrow at the sight of you. Arms tied behind your back. Bruise forming on your cheek. Dazed expression, likely a concussion. Balanced precariously on the seat of a dunk tank over a pool of neon chemicals.

His fingers twitch over his gun when one of the goons throws a ball at the target, barely missing as the others laugh.

He counts the number of Joker fanatics in the room. Thirteen men. Eight women. Six posted close enough to you where they could hit the target if he's not fast enough. Seventeen with visible guns. All with visible weapons. There's more voices outside the tent.

He eyes the woman swinging a bat covered with barbed wire a little too close to the dunk tank, too close to you. Jason wants to get you out first. There's too many variables. You could get shot. He's not fast enough.

Someone throws another baseball. It's a perfect toss. He shoots it out of the air.

"You have something of mine," The Arkham Knight drawls, stepping out of the shadows. He would smile at the way most of the room flinches at the sight of him. He would if you weren't teetering over a vat of bubbling chemicals.

One of the men steps forward. Stupid of him, really, "Finders keepers." He says it like it's a game. Like you're just some toy they picked up off the street.

Jason laughs. It's funny, that they think just because they stole you, it makes you any less his, "I'm going to give you two choices. One, you drop your weapons and leave. Two, you stay and you learn exactly what the chemicals in that vat can do."

More people leave than he expected. Huh. Guess they aren't so loyal to the clowns' legacy as they said. "I'm not scared of you," Goon number one spits. Goon number one gets a bullet in his stomach.

"You will be," The Arkham Knight murmurs. It's quick work. They're untrained, inexperienced. Half of them are high. It becomes increasingly clear with each body that hits the floor gasping that someone paid off his men to get to you.

He's pulling you off and out of the dunk tank as the last thug hits the floor, "How bad is it?" Jason's hands do not shake as he unties your wrists. (They do.) His breath does not leave his lungs when you say your head hurts. (It does.)

His eyes dart over your face and he picks you up to cradle you against his chest, "I'll have a medic look over you when we get back." He tries to sound soothing, the modulator makes it sound emotionless. You don't even acknowledge it.

He carries you out of the tent. The Joker fanatics that left are kneeling in the dirt and his men have their guns trained to kill. The Arkham Knight nods to them, "Use the Fear Toxin. Inject them with the highest dose we have. Drop the freaks still alive in the tent into the vat."

"Yes, sir," his men echo. Jason ignores the begging that starts up behind him as he carries you to the armored truck. He maneuvers you inside with him, settles you on his lap as his hand brushes the bruise on your face.

"Boss," the soldier behind the steering wheel prompts.

"Take us back to base, sergeant," The Arkham Knight says evenly, gloves still tracing your bruise. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't make any promises. The only comfort he offers is his hand gripping your waist tightly, paired with the gentle caressing of your face.

He knows it's not kind, the way he's holding you. He sees it in your eyes, even through the exhaustion and headache you're feeling, he's overbearing. He can't bring himself to care. All that matters is that you're safe in his arms.

The rest he can take care of later. It'll be simple for him and Deathstroke to pick through the rats in his ranks. Scarecrow's always in need of new test subjects, after all.

His grip tightens on you as the truck stops. The Arkham Knight picks you up easily, pushing the door open and carrying you inside the base. His soldiers are quick to move out of his way. They should be. Anyone with a brain can tell he's angry.

He's livid, at the way you hardly move, barely react to him. A medic files after him quickly as he sets you down in his personal quarters.

It's not a room he ever uses, preferring to sleep at whatever safe house you're in, but you're safer here until he can weed out the traitors. He watches you shift slightly in the chair, eyes unfocused.

Jason steps back and studies you with sharp eyes as the medic talks to you quietly, taking note of each wound and stumbled answer you give.

"Mild concussion, some scrapes and abrasions. Nothing that won't heal," the medic decides, "They shouldn't sleep for the next hour and need to be monitored for any worsening symptoms."

Jason motions them to leave. He hates to leave you alone, even for a moment, but there is one more order he needs to give. He follows the medic out the door.

A group of squad leaders stand rigid outside his quarters. Good. They should be on edge. "Make an example of any Joker or Harley Quinn sympathizers," he says, tone an unquestionable command, "Anything that's theirs, is a part of our operations by the end of the night."

He doesn't bother to stay and listen to their replies, already turning back into the room where you're waiting. Jason locks the door behind him, crossing the room in three strides and kneels at your feet.

You blink down at him. He hates the distant look in your eyes. You should be here. With him. He tugs his helmet off, "Does your head still hurt?"

You nod a little, the only proof you're really listening. He takes your hand in his brushing his thumb over your knuckles, "Say something." It's a command. It makes you jolt a little. He hates himself for it.

"I thought– they were gonna kill me," You stumble out, voice weak.

He nods, there's no pretending that's not true, "They can't kill anyone now."

He thinks you would have looked alarmed, if you didn't know what he was now. Relentless. A monster. A killer. But you do know, he's made that more than clear since the moment he got you back by his side.

You look resigned instead. Jason wishes you'd look relieved, "Do you need anything," he asks instead, reaching up to brush the bruise on your cheek. He can't help it, it's his fault that it's there.

You shake your head. He hates how quiet you're being, "Say something," he prompts again. He knows he shouldn't, knows you're in shock and you're hurt and you're tired and you're probably scared and he's not helping. But, he squeezes your hand anyway, a silent demand.

"What do you want me to say, Jason?" You breathe out, eyes finally focusing on him.

"Anything. Ask me for anything. Yell at me. Curse me out. Tell me you hate me. Hit me. Give me a bruise to match," He says almost desperately, pressing himself closer between your knees.

There's something wrong with him. He realizes that. The Arkham Knight is well aware that something inside of him is twisted, that you deserve better than this, especially after what you just went through, but he doesn't stop himself.

"I don't wanna hurt you," You murmur, "You came for me."

"I'm the reason you were there in the first place," Jason protests, both hands moving to cup your face, "I would deserve it, welcome it, if it was from you."

"I want," You start, and Jason leans forward eagerly, ready for whatever punishment you deliver, "I want to lay down. I wanna feel safe."

He falters, but doesn't move from between your legs, "You can't sleep for at least another hour."

"I know," You say quietly. Jason stares at you. You're the only thing that makes him unsure now. You always manage to knock him off center, never doing what he expects.

"Okay," he relents, scooping you up just as easily as he did in the tent. He carries you over to his bed. It's unused, perfectly made. He only ever sleeps wherever you are.

Jason carefully places you at the edge of the bed and digs through a drawer, handing you a shirt. He tugs off his armor, and frowns when you don't move.

"You don't want to sleep in that," it's not a question, and maybe he should frame it as one. Try to get nicer. But he thinks he might have forgotten how. You nod and slowly change. His eyes never leave you.

There's a few more bruises than he expected, and it makes rage coil in his chest. There's nothing he can do but crawl into bed at your side. It makes him uneasy, how little he can do for you.

He tugs you against him, he's not as gentle as he means to be.

You curl against him, fingers tangling into his shirt. He should comfort you here. Tell you it's going to be okay. Promise to protect you. He should rub your back and kiss your forehead and ease whatever pain you have in your heart.

But he's not gentle. He's not good. You're like this because of him. He holds you tighter when tears start to soak his shirt, lets you tangle your legs with his.

He doesn't manage to find the right words to say, doesn't manage to do the right thing before the hour is up, and you drift off to sleep. He doesn't think he ever will.

[igotanidea]

Somebody's watching me : AK!Jason x reader

Request: AK! jason hears y/n’s name from his opponent and just goes nuts like he goes home looking for her.

A/N : the requests is a little twisted, as usual, but I hope you'll still like it anon :D

***

It was gone.

His old life was gone.

And with it, everyone he knew before.

All that was left was revenge, hate, rage. And this unstoppable need for killing someone, destroy something, wreck havoc on every single person who did him any wrong.

Bruce.

Fucking Batman.

He was the Arkham Knight now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Focused on building his position so that no one, no fucking one, would ever hold any power over him.

And if that meant keeping tabs on everyone under his watchful gaze so be it.

And if that meant putting some pressure on everyone who dared to do as much as step a toe over the line, so be it.

And disturbances?

Defnitely not something he was about to allow.

And now he was holding a gun to one of his goons head.

"What did you do?" he hissed, his voice distorted by the helmet

"Sir, I --"

"What did you do?" Jason repeated pressing the metal more into man's head.

"I-- I disobeyed--"

"You disobeyed. And do you know what happens to people who disobey me?"

"Sir, please this is--"

Jason shot in the air and the man almost fell to his feet.

"It was-"

"I'm not going to give a warning shot again"

"I was-"

"I'm gonna count to three now. One."

"There's this girl."

"Two."

"Her name is Y/N."

"thr-- what?"

"She is very distant family, but --"

"Shut up!" Jason yelled, his face twisted with rage, not that anyone could see his expression hidden under the metal. "Shut the fuck up you hear me!" it took him two steps to be in front of the man, yanking him up by the collar and pinning to the wall with brutal force, half-chocking him "you ever do as much as think her name again and I'll kill you and put your head on a stick as a warning to anyone who dare have a thought of himself. YOU HEAR ME!?"

"y-ye-yes..."

"now get the fuck out of here!" the man was violently thrown on the floor, getting up as fast as he could and rushing out the door. It was truly a miracle he lived to tell the tale, cause Arkham Knight was not known for his leniency.

But Y/N.

Someone from his past.

More than someone.

A girl, a woman, he was once in love with.

A woman, whose name he forgot in the pursuit after Batman.

Or rather - tried to forget.

She was the only one who ever got him. The only one to accept him fully, with all his flaws.

His Y/N.

His Y/N who betrayed him just like anyone else. Who forgot him. Who moved on without giving as much as a single thought to him when he was lost. Who was never looking for him.

His Y/N.

It;s been years since he heard anyone mention her. Years since he swore to never get manipulated again.

And then.

Just a few letters mixed together. Just a few sounds.

And she was right behind his eyes, just like he remembered her. Because even his dark side refused to let go of the rememberance of their time together.

Her laugh. Her smile. Her eyes and freckles from the sun, as fleeting as the summer days they were spending together. Her calmness, care and tenderness when she was patching up his woudns, tiredlessly putting on bandaids and stitches.

Fuck!

He didn't need that.

Just another phase of brainwashing. If not from his capturers than from his own men.

Hell no.

He was going to say no to the past life once and for all.

Hunting her down, wherever she may be.

See her for the last time.

Pour hatred in his heart, destroying all the remaining piece of useless softness and caring he carried in his soul.

Burn the last link connecting him to the past down.

***

She was spending the night in her old apartment. Sitting by the same desk, with the same lamp, in the same posture she ever did.

One leg half bent and folded under her ass, the other hanging loose in the air.

"You're going to end up with numbness..." he muttered to himself, watching her from the opposite rooftop.

Obviously she couldn;t hear him, but something made her raise her head and look outside the window while simultaniously changing the position.

Jason smiled despite himself.

His heart skipped a beat and sudden warmth spread in his chest.

Only for a second though, since he rememembered why he was here in the first place.

Look at her.

So fucking good.

So fucking calm and happy, while he-

fuck!

traitorous bitch.

Maybe it was her plan from the very beggining. Conspiring with Batman only to get rid of him, so they could both be free of the burdening presence of a man once known as Jason Todd.

Y/N...

Regardless of how sweet her name may have tasted on his tongue he would rather cut it off than fall down that rabit hole again.

He was cold as ice. Brutal. Cruel. Ruthless.

And it was not going to change because he saw her.

Not in the million years.

She was the reason of his fallout. She should have stopped him from going on that stupid mission. She should have made him stay, showed him she cared enough to keep him grounded.

It was all her fault that that after being captured all he could think about was how she was going to survive without him. How her heart would break into million pieces, instead of figuring out a way to free himself.

It was all her fault that he became the Arkham Knight. Cause inhumanity was equal with survival. And survival meant living. And living meant keeping his legacy.

So yes, he hated her.

He hated her, because every single thing he did and every little thing done to him was because and thanks to her.

She was the reason of him getting on top, but also the person responsible for his failure as a person.

She was nothing.

She was everything.

And for the first time since capturing, torturing and tranformation Jason felt conflicted.

Y/N...

His Y/N...

Not his anymore...

***

When some force made her stand up and come to window all she saw was a blink of metal on the rooftop. And since she spend half of her life with vigilantes, it was easy to realise that this must have been one of them.

But the silhouette of a running man couldn;t have been Dick nor Tim nor any other hero she would recognise.

And despite herself, she felt a shiver running down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

[patchiko]

Arkham Knight Relationship HCS !! <3

( light nsfw, mostly SFW tho!! )

literally my wife ( i made this pic idc abt creds i just wanna talk abt it)

SFW !! <3

dying on this hill when i say basically any red hood would be soo yummy with a civilian or just someone who is extremely balanced.

im a red hood needs more fucking normalcy in his life TRUTHER.

relationship starts off slow, romantic and platonic, you need to be patient with him long enough for him to get over his mental dilemmas to feel ANY-TYPE of way towards you.

more then like 6 months lets be real yall

his way of bonding is quality time. ill die on this hill, especially at the start of the relationship. Nothing huge maybe just spending a couple extra minutes around you before leaving.

next is probably gift giving, esp with early relations, probably just gonna order you food or put fifty bucks on your countertop. you dont even notice until you realize you find a fifty around the last place he was standing. expect deliveries from R.H whenever he feels bad for something.

doesn't like being around for too long, feels like he's messing up something. ruining your day by keeping you up late (he was there for fifteen minutes), ruining your mood, (there was an awkward silence for like 30 seconds.)

not a overly conscious thought process though, he feels physically he isn’t supposed to be there. for whatever subconscious thing he picked up on, a awkward silence, or hes been there 15 minutes too long or something

well sometimes he'll mentally beat himself up.

he spirals a lot, needs someone to pull him out of that.

i think when he needs to be grounded, its not just comfort its making him feel alive in the present moment. he's never gonna truly forget about his traumas but maybe for just an hour or two; running around an arcade, walking around the city. just making him feel normal, yeah you BAGGED his ass quick.

he needs someone patient, really patient, someone whos very attentive and empathetic. (but not a complete push- over def needs someone to set him in line still)

i think if you move to quickly, he'll get super snappy and ghosting you,, ong put ur hands on him too early and he's left hooking you.

yeah you're waking up and the first thing your hearing is "Its been 12 years..."

second thing you hear is "you've been in a coma for.. 12 years."

third thing you're hearing is, " we think a bus hit you...”

obviously not touchy, even when he is settling down. hes just not sure how to .. or where to .. or why he wants too.

please his mental gymnastics get so crazy, just sit down with him and put on some silly ass movie so he stops

when he’s settled he cant pry himself off you though.

a lot of his expressions can definitely be told by his body language, naturally hes tense but theres certain habits he has when he's maybe thinking too much, or fustrated/irritated.

but he does all of the same for you, comfort, love, as much as he can he tries

Very attentive, has a mental list of 'shit you do when somethings wrong' or 'shit you like.'

doesn't consciously make any of these mental list, he just knows.

"didnt they say they liked this?" He pauses "shit ill just leave it at their window."

so he's like canonically smart as shit.

you have too much work from your boss or professor? hand it over its done in less then two hours.

literally buys you groceries and pays your bills (fucking lover boy.)

arkham knight finally figuring out how to ask for a hug (hes been dead silent for 5 minutes) (link) <— insta reel

HES A CHEM/HISTORY NERD FOR SURE

NSFW !! <3

probably- A FUCKING VIRGIN !! HES A NERD !! GETS AWKARD AS SHIT. WITH RAGING COMMITMENT AND TRUST ISSUES !! (will still die4you tho)

AGAIN, not in a "my soft squishe potato always been scared of sex" way but in a ‘oh my god hes so unsocialized’ way.

yall ever see a big ass dog just..standing.. literally him (hes dissociating)

genuinely dont believe that when he was arkham/training to be, he was sexually or romantically involved with anyone. the last thing that was on his mind was actually pursuing a sexual or romantic relationship.

along with his trauma, he just wasn’t comfortable with any of that.

ghosted so many people..

couldn’t flirt for more then five minutes, just stopped feeling it or got uncomfortable .

I AM ANTI ARKHAM KNIGHT BEING A SEX GOD

not that he’s horribly awkward, but he’s noticeably a bit more quiet for first times.

ofc this man has watched porn n’ shit but hes smart enough to know thats not what its really like.

he’ll still figure it, what makes you tic, what you love, what makes you most comfortable.

kinda shitty at dirty talk, just makes him buffer.

he gets better at it tho, too damn good

gets so snarky and confident about it too uuhgrr

late relationships hes smirking and chatting your ears off cause you know hes gettin you turnt.

he has a love-hate relationship with his scars. 95% they remind him of his past, but 5% hes alright with them because they’ve shown what hes been through.

deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down, he knows hes fine as fuck. TRUST YALL.

again, super observant and attentive. really pays attention to what you enjoy.

I genuinely don’t believe hes into super hardcore/painful kinks or anything.

Sex for him is definitely a way of showing his trust and intimacy with someone!! Let him show you how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you feel good! Do the same to him !!

mmm tell him how good hes doing and hes a absolute mess!!

praise him! PRAISE HIM *im yelling from the hospital bed im strapped down on*

wouldn’t let you ride for awhile, but once he’s comfortable with it ,, he’s actually obsessed.

cant see him bottoming , just wouldn’t be comfortable with it

my brain is getting messy so im stopping here! feedback and comments would be cool if you wanna drop some!

[sideeve]

ARKHAM KNIGHT THOUGHT

the lock pick in your hand fumbles and falls out of your palm as you crouch in front of the last door until you saw freedom. "what are you doing, little bunny?" you freeze, your whole body suddenly not being able to move.

the heavy footsteps creep up on you. "i know my little bunny didn't want to leave me, did she?" he stops behind you. you slowly turn around, worried as you see a mini group of militia behind him. the arkham knight eyes the lockpick by your feet before picking it up, twirling it around in his fingers as he examines it.

"where did you get this, bunny?" he turns his head to you, his mask concealing his face. "answer me!" "i-i found it in one of the vents." you stutter. "one of my past bunnies must've left it." he pushes it in one of his many pockets, his attention on you again. "i'm feeling generous. don't disobey me again and we'll have a good day." he pulls you onto your feet again by your chin, his gloved index finger curled under your head.

"i have a meeting soon. i don't trust you to be on your own so you're coming with me." you looked down at your attire. you were wearing a red and black oversized sweater with some black socks. you weren't ready for a meeting. "i-i'm not wearing any good clothes." 'it'll do." he yanks you by your arm close to him.

"do we understand the basis of the mission?" the arkham knight's booming voice sounds throughout the whole room. the militia's eyes were all on you. the arkham knight was known for making abrupt decisions but him bringing you was unpredictable.

your plump ass was fit perfectly on his crotch. every time you tried to adjust your bare thighs on his rough military pants, you could feel his cock hardening. "i'm tired of you teasing me." he seethes in your ear before lifting the bottom of your sweater up to your waist. you hated that he never provided you with underwear. you were always walking around the quarters without any panties. but he loved it. he could take you whenever-wherever and no one could say anything.

he didn't care of how obvious he was being with you. he was so quick to pull out his cock from his fly before bending you over, plunging in you. "you see this?" he chuckles as he hears you whine. "this little bunny has tried to escape. we don't want that. do we, boys?" the room fills with 'no's. the arkham knight grips your waist as you grip his arms, needing to hold something as he abused your cunt in front of his soldiers.

"she's mine. if any of you touch her-shit!" he groans, throwing his head back as he slaps your ass. " you're 's fucking tight." he laughs before continuing his sentence. "if any of you touch her without my permission, i'll kill you." he pulls his gun from his side holder, pointing it around the room.

then his attention averts back to you. he would never admit to anyone but he's growing fond of you. every time he took you, he secretly took notes of what sent shivers down your spine, what made your walls flutter around his length. he yearned to make you feel good during intimate acts. so for you leave him after falling for you left a sick taste in his mouth. "say you love me." he begins to thrust harder. "you're-" he seethes, "you're all dismissed." he had taken notice of his men palming themselves at the sight of him taking you apart.

the men beeline out of the meeting room. most likely rushing to their bunkers to relieve themselves, storing this moment in their spank bank. "say it." his mask was now fully off, the 'J' scar saying hello to you. "i love you..." you moan. you felt a ring of arousal around the base of his cock as you both release, streams of hot white cum painting your walls. "kiss me." he pants. he couldn't get enough of you. he was insatiable.

he shoves his tongue down your mouth, the tip of his tongue not letting any part of your mouth be undiscovered. "you're not leaving me. i'm making sure of it." he pants, putting your cheek as he sees you drift off. "understand me?" you nod, your eyelids heavy. "good. 'cause fucking love you." he huffs, rubbing your ass before pulling out.

[moonlit-imagines]

No One’s Sidekick

Jason Todd x teen!reader

warnings: needles and guns and death mentions ya know

a/n: ok i was gonna do headcanons for this but honestly it sparked a lot of inspiration so im actually writing a oneshot for it this is a ONE IN A MILLION CHANCE bc im very picky about when to write oneshots ily. might do hcs also just cuz arkham knight is my passion. (honestly i should have just done hcs idk if i like where i went with this LMAO)

prompt: anonymous: “hi idk if you write Arkham Jason Todd but if if you do is it possible if you can do a Arkham Jason Todd x fem teen reader and reader is his sidekick”

Imagine a life where you had nothing, you were the lowest anyone could go, and you were just a kid. Now imagine that there was someone standing in front of you, telling that same story, and offering you a chance to turn it all around because they knew how it felt to be you.

That someone was Jason Todd. You found each other by chance, somewhere in the Gotham slums. He walked past you down a dimly lit alley full of used needles and rotting trash, noticing a kid just a few years younger hiding from the world. You noticed a guy in a hoodie hiding a nasty scar on his cheek.

He reached out a hand, hoping you’d take it. He saw a look in your eyes that you’d been like this a while. And you might have noticed the same in his. Which is why after trusting nobody for years, you took this stranger’s hand. “I remember when I was a kid waiting in shitty places woth the hope someday it’d change. And it did one day. Someone found me and changed my life.” He explained after buying you a burger and fries.

“Was it for the better?” You asked him with a mouthful of food.

“I don’t know anymore.” He looked shaken himself, and you could tell by the bags under his eyes this may have been a subject that kept him up at night, maybe took up his waking moments, too. “How long have you been alone?”

“Practically forever. Every once in a while I felt like I was on steady ground and then…something always happens.” You sighed, taking a sip of your soda. “But I learned how to get by on my own. I had to. And I have to protect myself.” Jason raised a brow.

“You protect yourself yet you’re willing to go off with a stranger?” He asked, giving you a warm smile.

“Jason, right?” He nodded at the question. “Jason Todd?” His expression dropped. Before he could stammer out a response, you leaned back on your side of the booth and said, “everyone around here knows you one way or another, but everyone thought you were dead after you disappeared.”

“Did you know who I was when you came here with me?” Jason spoke lowly.

“Nope.” You flatly responded. “But I figured it out along the way. You used to live in my building when I was a kid, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“3B?” He asked.

“That’s the one. You remember?” You smiled.

“I remember a scared little kid with dirt all over their face no matter what time of day.” You both chuckled. “Wow, it’s been a long time. I guess I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know where to go from here.” You took the last few bites from your meal, averting your eyes from his gaze, nervous for what was to come, but also hopeful. At this point, you didn’t care what you did or where you went, as long as you had some kind of purpose. Spending your youth in sleeping in wet boxes or crashing on a sunken-in, stained couch was no longer something you could stand doing.

“I had an idea. A while ago. But I just didn’t know how to go about it.” He revealed with a long pause, mustering up better details to share. “I dont know. It sounds crazy, but maybe not anymore.”

“Can you get to the point?” You tilted your head, eager for a bit more.

“Yeah, yeah…” He gulped. “I talked to this guy, it was after some really bad shit went down,” he brushed his scarred cheek, “this high-profile assassin wanted to train me—work with me. There are some demons I have to face, but I need some help to get ready.” You stared blankly for a minute, fingernail scratching the tabletop as you thought about his words. “It’s out of the country, somewhere in South America.”

“You’re crazy.” You stated. “I’m in.” Jason’s eyes widened. “Anything to get me out of Gotham. And you’re Jason Todd, I’d trust you with my life, even after all this time.” His expression softened and he kind of chuckled, in disbelief of you and himself.

“I—I guess I gotta go make a call.” Jason knocked his hand on the table. “Go ahead and order dessert, I’ll be back in a few.” He stepped out the front door and opened his phone, scrolling down to a contact labeled “S. Wilson.” It rang twice. “I’m in, and one more will be joining us.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travels, stay on the line.” Said Slade, there were faint keyboard clicks. “I have a private jet that awaits you at eight a.m. tomorrow. I will send you the address, don’t be late.” The phonecall ended abruptly and Jason went back to your table, finding you eating a slice of pie.

“Tomorrow morning we get to fly in a private jet.” Jason saw your face light up. “Never been?”

—————

Venezuela was incredible to you, even if it was a bit more humid than you were used to. On the plane ride, Jason told you everything. He didn’t spare one detail, he didn’t care. You were another Gotham City orphan with a dark past and a bright future. You two were ready for anything.

It was grueling. It was incredible. It was nothing you’d experienced before. Which was terrifying. But invigorating. You could tell Jason felt right back in his element, but you were desperately trying to catch up. He’d had much training before this, relevant to the current situation. You’re training went as far as standard Gotham Slums scuffling. Your skills included switchblade maneuvers, aiming for the crotch, running from trouble and climbing from trouble. Nothing like this ever seemed possible for you. But Jason knew what it felt like to be brought from your level to his. And as Deathstroke brought Jason to his level, he’d make sure you’d catch up.

—————

“I think you two are ready.” Slade announced as both of you stood before him. Straight backs, eyes forward, and arms behind your backs. “The plan is to be enacted soon, and you,” he turned his attention to Jason, “it’s up to you what we do from here. Gotham City finally meets its match?” He suggested. Jason nodded his head once and you followed. And so it began, the planning phase.

—————

You looked at Gotham from down below. Smaller than you remembered. The whirring of the helicopter blades lulled you away from reality for a few moments before Jason tapped you, motioning for you to come up front with him. You slid your headset on and heard him begin barking orders at the militia before setting your comms to private. “How’s it feel?” Jason asked you.

“I don’t know, actually.” You replied, doing a final check to make sure your guns were loaded and secured. “What about you?”

“It feels like I’m finally getting my revenge.” His voice modulator sent a chill down your spine and you soon landed in Gotham. The plan went off without a hitch. Gotham evacuated, scum running loose, Batman distracted, and his allies scattered. It was exciting, but something was off. Scarecrow’s plan didn’t sit well with you. It was gruesome, even to you. You never really cared about anyone but yourself, but as Jason lost his humanity, you gained it. “I’ve got your back, y/n. You got mine?”

“Always, Knight.” He chuckled as the chopper began to descend. “Let’s kill the Batman.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend //

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 3/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 1,484 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 (in replies because tags aren't working in the post for some reason)

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

I just want y’all to know that this chapter was written for you—I prefer the story ending at Chapter 2 😉

If you enjoy the read please kudos, comment, and reblog ❤️

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You catch the door before it clicks shut. You don’t want to leave him like this. You can’t leave him like this, so you inhale a deep breath and creep back inside, steeling yourself for rejection or another hateful outburst.

His weeping tapers off into sniffles and the occasional cough. You can feel his eyes following you as you pad over to his couch and grab the neatly folded throw blanket, casting a furtive glance towards his gun, which is still lying undisturbed where you left it, before returning to him. His eyes have fallen away from you—his head sagging between his slumped shoulders, chin touching his chest—and you hope he hasn’t gone away again to that terrible place in his mind. When you drape the blanket around his shoulders he flinches but gives no other protest, even pulling it more tightly around himself. He doesn’t order you to leave—doesn’t even acknowledge you’re there—so you kneel down in front of him, careful not to crowd him. He looks so defeated, so beaten down by the world; an abused child wrapped up in his security blanket for comfort after another unfair punishment. Your heart can’t help but break for him.  

You sit for a moment, listening to his soft sniffles and harsh breathing until you find the right words to say. Then you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to the floor again, his tearful eyes hidden behind a curtain of sweat-damp black hair.

For what? Passing out? Getting strangled? Knocking me to the floor then screaming at me? But you keep those questions to yourself, asking him instead: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

He slowly shakes his bowed head, as if it’s filled with lead, as if those awful memories of his are weighing it down.

“Then why don’t you lie down? Maybe get some rest?” you suggest. “I can bring you some Ambien…”

Your voice trails off because he shoots you a wary look. But then his face softens and he nods before muttering, “No drugs.”

“No drugs,” you echo softly, your brain jumping to conclusions again about this brooding man of few words. Perhaps he’s a recovering addict or something. You push yourself to your feet then reach out a hand to help him up. He stares at it then his eyes fall away again. He’s really not a fan of eye contact.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says.

“It’s Y/N,” you offer eagerly. “What about you?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to ignore you, but then he answers, “Jason,” in a barely audible voice, as if he’s ashamed to utter the word aloud.

Heavy silence swells around you and you’re acutely aware of your outstretched arm hanging awkwardly in the air. He wipes his bleeding cheek against his shoulder, smearing more blood onto his hoodie. You pull back your proffered hand and use it to push a lock of hair behind your ear as you fumble for something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretches on. And suddenly you're back at dinner with John Preston Anderson III trying to make conversation while he scrolls on his phone, pretending you don’t exist. You have to swallow down a bubble of anger that threatens to erupt.

“I’m… sorry for whatever happened to you, Jason. I… can stay with you, if you want.” Suddenly your face is afire and you’re mortified that you just invited yourself to sleep over at his place only seconds after learning his name. “On your couch, I mean,” you clarify, blushing furiously, but his eyes never leave the floor. Thankfully.

He coughs then shakes his head again. “I already ruined your night.”

A bitter laugh bursts out of you at that without your permission, and his head jerks up, startled, bloodshot eyes snapping to yours. You clap both hands over your mouth as if you can shove the rude sound back inside you. Guilt grips your heart as you see the pained expression on his pale face. It’s not anger or hurt or annoyance, but rather that same look of fear that you witnessed earlier when he was cowering in the corner, as if your laughter frightened him. 

You rush to explain, to put him at ease. “I’m sorry, it’s just that… if you only knew the night I’ve had. Anyway, I’m glad we finally got to meet. It’s nice to put a name to the-the face.” You stutter that last part, realizing after the fact that it’s probably not very nice to bring up his unmistakably-scarred face like that, or complain about your night to the guy who got strangled, so you blurt out before your mind can catch up with your mouth: “It isn’t every night that I get to help a handsome stranger in distress.”

Your face somehow turns an even darker shade of crimson. How many times can you put your foot in your mouth in one conversation? But to your surprise and relief you’re rewarded with a little laugh from Jason, a sound that seems awkward and unnatural, as if he doesn’t get to laugh very often. Some of the color returns to his cheeks as he blushes the prettiest shade of pink. When the corners of his mouth quirk up into a timid smile you realize that he has absolutely gorgeous lips, despite the swelling. Full and soft, finely laced with small silvery scars—little arrows pointing to where they need to be kissed. Jesus Christ. Again, you literally just learned the guy’s name and now you want to kiss him. No, that’s a lie. You’ve wanted to kiss him since his rude ass scowled at you the first time. What is it with you and Ted Bundy types?

“I’ll have to pass out more often,” he says shyly, fingers plucking at the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His blue-green eyes find the floor again, as if his script is written there. “Turns out it’s a great way to meet beautiful women.”

Beautiful… beautiful… The word echoes in your mind like a heartbeat. No one has ever called you beautiful. Your chest comes alive with sudden warmth as butterflies take flight. You want to stay there with him for the rest of the night. To kiss him on his busted lips. To wrap him up in your arms. To protect him from whatever hurt him. Instead, you grab one of the discarded ice packs and hand it to him, heart still fluttering wildly in your chest. “Google says you should get some ice on that. Your throat, I mean.” Goddamnit. He just said you’re beautiful, and you reply by handing him an ice pack. How the hell are you so bad at flirting?

“Who am I to question Dr. Google?” he replies sarcastically with a smug little smirk on those beautiful lips, but still does as he’s told, accepting the ice pack then holding it against his red-ringed throat.

You gaze down at him as you grope for the perfect words to say that will turn this scene into one worthy of a romcom. You consider inviting him back to your place to share that bottle of merlot you’ve been dreaming about all night. But then remind yourself that the poor guy is traumatized, definitely in no shape for a romantic nightcap. You can’t help but find yourself wishing, as if you can will it into existence, that he’ll look up at you, that your eyes will meet, sparks will fly, and he’ll flirt with you again. Maybe even invite you to stay the night with him. But his eyes remain glued to the floor, and your heart drops in disappointment as your ridiculous delusions are dashed by his silence.

“I should… probably go, for real this time. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you before I go?” you ask, coming back down to earth from the high of his compliment and seeing him again as the guy who’d gotten cut and strangled then passed out cold on his floor rather than an object of your lust.

He shakes his head, then he glances up at you, those stunning blue-green eyes of his finally finding yours, sending a fresh flutter to your chest. “You’ve done more than enough. It was… really nice having someone to talk to. To… distract me from… other things.”

His kind words give you a boost of confidence. “Well If you ever want to talk again, you know where I live. Or if you need a babysitter.”

You smile at the puzzled look that crosses his face and nod towards his houseplant.

He laughs that adorable little laugh again. “I may take you up on that offer sometime. Goodnight Y/N. And… thanks again. For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jason.”

[hanasnx]

(the executive dysfunction monster hit me too, i fear. was stuck between babydaddy!red hood and babydaddy!arkham knight, but i settled on red hood bc i'm choosing to gatekeep my ak thoughts)

baby daddy!jason, who you co-parent with in a very civilized way. no joke, the picture of camaraderie between exes. he takes your daughter on the days he's supposed to (which isn't that often, given his occupation) and brings her back on time, always with a little gift for you as well. flowers, chocolates, a little knick-knack reminiscent of when you were together. it's not because he's in love with you or anything; it's just the principle of the matter. "happy wife, happy life," not that you were married or even dating, but he figures the mother of his child should get love sometimes. 

baby daddy!jason, who, the next time he sees you, it's to drop off something your daughter forgot with him, and as he's handing you the bag, he casually asks why you haven't been asking him to take her more often. you had been for a while when you were going on dates weekly, but for some reason, the relationships never went anywhere, so you just gave up. "oh, you know, it just wasn't working out." you say off-handedly, "kept getting ghosted." you sound only marginally disappointed, moreso annoyed. "hm, what a shame, they're really missing out," he says, getting real close to you and taking up your entire field of vision.

baby daddy!jason, who's got your entire calendar memorized and knows that his daughter's not home tonight, and you've got no plans other than watching movies in solitude. he knows you're too stubborn to call him over for company even though you've been giving him fuck me eyes in passing for the past few months, so he figures he just has to take matters into his own hands and corner you until you give in like he knows you want to.

baby daddy!jason who fucks you on damn near every surface in the house, telling you he's just christening the place like he would've already done if you lived together. whispers apologies in your ears about scaring off all of your dates while he's splitting you open, bullying his cock into you while your eyes roll to the back of your head because you haven't been fucked this good in years, not since the last time you'd been with him. your face is deep in some pillows when you realize the memories you had of his dick pale in comparison to the real thing, and you weren't sure you could go back to using your imagination to get off after tonight.

baby daddy!jason, who keeps you up all night until your pussy's red and puffy from how many times it'd come in contact with his hips while he was fucking you. fat tip kissing your cervix until you were clawing at his biceps, begging him to give you some reprieve, tears in your eyes while you babble incoherently, too lost in the feeling of him to make any sense. he admits in the midst of sex that he tried to get over you, he really did, but he just couldn't; just couldn't picture you with another man in any capacity. the thought of someone else touching you, fucking you, loving you, made his stomach turn, filling him with rage and an overwhelming need to claim you as his. 

baby daddy!jason, who's a level-headed, non-fragile ego'd man until it comes to his family, which, contrary to what some would say, did not only consist of his daughter but you too, and any guy who tried to get with you was a threat. he didn't know the intentions of other men, but he knew his own, which was to keep his little family happy as long as he was alive. if that meant putting a gun to the head of anyone who made a move on you and consoling you by stretching you out the way he knew you liked until you just said "fuck it" and let him put another baby in you, then so be it.

-🍃

i have a hard time responding to long inbox messages but i wanted to tell you thank you for indulging me in my idea i loved reading this :)

[xergoxponderx]

AK! Jason Todd x Vigilante! Reader (pt. 1)

{Lots of setting up for the story. Fighting. Backstory. lol} wc: 785 Synopsis: You're a vigilante siding with Batman, currently on a mission to assist in finding the identity of the Arkham Knight. Amidst the events of the Fear City plan conducted by the Arkham Knight and Scarecrow, you find yourself being taken hostage by the Knight himself. Though he seems oddly gentle...and familiar...

(Y/N) leaps from building to building, grappling her way across Gotham in homes of finding a lead to the Arkham Knight. She was determined to find something, anything. Not only could Bruce not get any leads as to his identity, but neither could Lucius and Alfred. And Barbara was kidnapped by the Knight...so of course that meant she couldn't help. Barbara. (Y/N)'s friend. (Y/N) shudders as she tries to block out what horrible things could be done to her. She stayed focused as she moves.

"I'm closer...I have to be...", (Y/N) mutters to herself as she looks down at the tank drones. The Knight must be nearby, if this area is so important to protect. "What are you hiding....who are you...", (Y/N) mutters as she thinks of the next part of her plan.

"Don't sound too sure...", a robotic voice states behind (Y/N).

She immediately whips her head around and stands up straight. There he was, the Knight. (Y/N) takes out her weapons, two kunai, one in each hand.

"Easy...not that you'd put up much anyways...", the Knight taunts as he slowly steps forward, "What are you anyways...a wannabe vigilante? A little kid hoping to get in the game? Hm...Deathkiss?"

(Y/N) furrows her brows at this. She's the vigilante Deathkiss to others, but to the Knight it feels that he sees her as a joke. It takes her back to old memories. (Y/N) was a poor Gotham kid on the street...no one to help her but one person. Her only friend, Jason Todd. (Y/N) is smart, capable, but too sweet for her own good. Jason is kind, and is willing to use his kindness to fight for those he cares about. That meant her.

When Bruce took them in it was only Jason who trained to be a vigilante, Robin. (Y/N) hung back. Jason tried to get her to show interest in being a vigilante as well.

"You could be something intimidating but sweet...maybe like Deathkiss or something...", he told her one night as they stargazed on the roof of Wayne manor.

(Y/N) didn't take up the vigilante life until Jason was kidnapped by the Joker...and killed. She swore she'd avenge him somehow, and that she'd protect other's from horrible fates that villians may lead them too. All under the name her best friend chose...Deathkiss.

(Y/N) can't speak as she stares the Knight down. Her thoughts of Jason affecting her. Amidst the silence, she takes her chance. She dashed to the Knight, grunting as she sweep kicks at his feet. She then throws a punch at the chin, hoping to stun him slightly.

The Knight dodges skillfully, grabbing Deathkiss's fist. He's quick, skilled.

"So he did teach you. Batman taught you how to fight.", the Knight says as he grabs Deathkiss's other wrist, "I know all the tricks. And I know you won't last in a fight with me. You're weak. You don't wanna fight...", he taunts.

"Don't tell me what I want!" Deathkiss retorts as she lifts her legs, kicking off of the Knight and backflipping away, landing on her feet yet low to the ground.

"You've learned a bit haven't you? I'm surprised...", the Knight says in his usual calm, almost cocky voice. "Maybe you could take out my men...but not me...and I don't feel like dancing this dance for long."

With a swift motion, the Knight dashes forward and takes hold of Deathkiss.

"Let go!", she calls out.

"Sorry sweetheart.", the Knight says without even feigning pity. He grabs her by the waist with one arm, his hands clinging to her side. With his other hand, he places pressure on a specific area of her neck.

"No-"

Everything fades to black. Her body goes limp as she's placed in a deep sleep.

The Knight gently placed Deathkiss in his arms. Holding her bridal style. He looks down at her. There she is. (Y/N). His best friend. His first love. His...everything. Then came the dilemma.

He knew he shouldn't have kidnapped her. This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't like kidnapping Barbara, to get to Bruce. This was selfish, all for him. He just...missed her.

But she's a vigilante, working with Batman. What would she think when she woke up? Would she look at him with those kind eyes, and admire him like she did before his death? Not only is Jason a dead man walking...but he's a threat to Gotham and Bruce.

He pushed these thoughts aside and shook his head as he takes her to his base. Safe...with him.

a/n: super rushed ik aaa i havent written anything in so long but if yall like it or have ideas plz lmk until next time!!!

[solar-wing]

⚣ Safer With Me ❌

⚣❌ A/N → Yandere! Arkham!Jason Todd. Inspired by @yanderes-galore and their prompt writing for Jason. Prompts below were selected with a randomizer wheel. WARNINGS: Abduction/Kidnapping, Minor themes of Non-Con, Stalking/Obsessive Behavior, Depictions of Violence and Gun-Use

Prompt List Here! #40: "I know what's best for you, just trust me on this one." #18: "There's no use in sucking up to me now."

⚣❌ Summary → Homeless on the streets after your parents kicked you out when you came out to them, fate seemed to take mercy on you as you were taken in by Gotham's Billionaire Playboy, Bruce Wayne. But, your stay with him is not long as someone has been keeping an eye on you. An old acquaintance of your new guardian who had a plan of getting you away from the famed CEO. Why? Because you were safer with him, why else?

⚣❌ Words → 1.8k

REBLOGS and replies very appreciated, please! ❤️

⚣ ENJOY ❌

You couldn’t figure out how you ended up in this situation.

A few months before this entire mess of a night, your parents had kicked you out on the streets after coming out to them as gay. Kind of ironic knowing the other stuff they ‘tolerated’, but whatever. 

So after that, you were sleeping on the streets, doing what you had to do to survive. It’s Gotham City, so you were bound to eventually run into trouble. Some guys who were clearly drunk off their asses decided to start harassing you then Batman showed up to save the day. But he barely got a punch in before you had all three of them laying on their asses in pain.

There was a reason you asked your parents for self-defense classes the moment you came to terms with your sexuality. The world was changing, but not quickly enough.

So, the Dark Knight dropped you off at the police station where coincidentally, Bruce Wayne happened to show up and offered to take you in. You’d heard about the billionaire’s ‘hobby’ of taking in kids off the street and giving them a better life, and what more pleasing way to shove the middle finger at your parents than to end up in the care of someone who seemed to actually give a fuck about you more than they ever pretended to?

Then, the tests started. You figured Bruce was testing your skills to see how well you’d be able to take care of yourself just in case another incident happened as the one Batman found you in. They continued for a while, and before Bruce got to tell you what they were actually for, it was too late.

A few months after your move-in into Wayne Manor, you started getting the feeling you were being watched. And growing up in Gotham, you always knew it was better to listen to your instincts and be wrong than not listen and still be wrong.

A week before the attack on the city from Scarecrow, you had been on your way home walking since Bruce wasn’t able to pick you up due to some ‘unforeseen circumstances’. You’d soon come to find out all of that was a diversion so Arkham Knight and his militiamen had a clear shot at nabbing you. 

When you turned down a corner to an empty street, they pulled you into an alleyway and jumped you. You did your best to fight them off, but they began to overwhelm you. Somehow, you gained an upper hand though, the goons not expecting you to be as trained as you were. 

Just before you could take out the last of them though, he showed up and surprised you from behind, covering your nose and mouth with a rag seeped in nitrous oxide, putting you right to sleep.

Right before you lost consciousness, you heard a modulated voice chuckle in your ear, “Don’t worry, I got you. You’re safe with me now.”

You woke up in a dark room with hands and feet tied together and a splitting headache to match the aches around your body. You looked around to see the room you were in was empty, but you could hear voices on the outside talking.

“Why do you think Knight wanted him in the first place?”

“If I had to guess, it probably got something to do with the Bat himself.”

“Hmm, maybe. Personally, I think he’s got a thing for him. Not my place to judge, but I’ve heard and seen how protective he gets of him. Did you see the way he brought him in? Not one of us was allowed to even touch him.”

You didn’t know what to make of it or how to make sense of it. Didn’t have the time to do it either since you heard footsteps approaching the door. You listened to that same modulated voice you’d heard before you passed out giving an order to open the door. 

Laying back down in the position you were in before, you pretended to be still asleep.

You could hear the heavy footsteps as if whoever this was wearing the heaviest of heaviest boots in the world. The nervous feeling in your chest grew more and more the closer they sounded. Doing your best to stay still, you tried slowing your breathing down to a relaxed pace as you felt the thuds on the ground from him coming to stand next to you, feeling his entire presence standing over your body. You prepared your body figuring he may kick, slap, or even yell for you to wake up.

You did not expect to feel a gloved hand caressing your face.

“I know you’re awake.” He spoke before removing his hands and standing back up.

Opening your eyes, you saw a glowing screen mask staring down at you. 

You heard their modulated voice chuckle as he watched you slowly sit back up. “You didn’t think we’d have cameras inside watching to see when you’d got up?” He stated before gesturing to the cameras around the room. 

The mysterious soldier turned around to grab the only chair in the room, moving it to the middle of the room before coming back to lift you off the ground, settling you into the chair gently.

“Why am I here?”

“I know what’s best for you, just trust me on this one. You’re safer with me than with him.”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” You asked with a puzzled look coming across your face.

He didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell he was debating on something, you just didn’t know what.

“In time, you’ll find out.” He replied simply.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“Direct and to the point, huh? Knew there was something I liked about you.” He laughed, walking to stand in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Must be a lot of things from what I’ve heard. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be sitting here.”

“Really? Well, if I were you, I’d think better than believing everything I hear.” He said, grabbing your chin a little rough, forcing you to look up at him.

You scowled at the armor-clad man before spitting at him. You watched the glob of saliva run down his mask before the hand on your chin grabbed at your neck. You clawed at his wrists to no avail as he lifted you out of the seat.

“That wasn’t very nice. Say you’re sorry, and I won’t hurt you… much.” He said, getting very close to your face to the point you could feel the electricity buzzing off the screen.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You spat at him.

He chuckled darkly, before kicking the chair you were sitting on.

“If you insist.”

He slammed you down on the ground, your breath escaping you and your vision going blurred. He kept his hand tight on your neck while the other one went down to your pants, undoing the belt and button before attempting to pull them down.

“No!” You whimpered, trying to fight back against him. He placed his body over your kicking legs, his heavyweight managing to hold them still while he now went to put his hands up your shirt. He felt all over your upper body, even stopping to pinch at your nipples a few times, before his hand went back down to your pants, sticking them down your underwear. You cried out at the feeling, trying your best to get him off you, but the dude was like a tank, and you were getting weaker with the more time he spent choking the air out of you. He started trying to push down your pants again before you both heard pounding against the door.

“Knight! Scarecrow says we gotta move!”

He held still for a moment before you felt him release you. You gasped for breath while he re-did your pants before pulling you up from the ground. Your body lay against his weak while feeling a little lightheaded from being jerked up so suddenly.

“You got lucky, this time. But, I wouldn’t try a move like that again. You won’t be leaving anytime soon

“Batman will. He’ll kick your ass.” You groaned from the soreness around your throat while panting into his chest armor.

You felt the chuckle vibrate from his chest before he bent down to lift you in a bridal hold.

“I was held captive once too, tortured even. Thought the same thing. It’s nice for a while but you’ll get over it soon enough.”

You struggled in the hold as he moved toward the door letting out a whimper from the pain your body was still in. “Please… just let me go.” You begged.

“Aww, already giving in? Cute. And smart. But, too little, too late. There’s no use in sucking up to me now.” He said, before heading out of the room to wherever.

You watched from around the corner, a gag tied over your mouth now with your hands bound in front of you as one of the militiamen held you in place. You saw Batman come around the corner and tried to scream out to warn him but was too late as Knight had jumped from the ledge he was hiding on shooting at him. 

Batman managed to dodge but was quickly knocked to the ground. Before he could get up, Knight walked over and placed his foot on his chest, pinning him down to the ground.

“Oh no, no, you’re not going anywhere, old man.”

You looked in horror as Knight switched hands with the gun he was holding, pointing it down directly at the masked vigilante.

“Tri-weave, titanium coated, armor plating. Nice. Unless you know exactly…where to shoot.” He said, before placing the gun down on his lower abdomen and pulling the trigger. You flinched at the sound, watching him groan in pain before Knight moved his foot off his chest.

“You’re good, Dark Knight. Even better than I remember. It’s going to make it even more satisfying when I kill you. Oh, and, don’t worry about Barbara. I’ll take better care of her than you ever did. Y/N too, he’s mine now.” You heard him say, walking toward where you and the others were standing around the corner.

“Batman’s in the control room. Show him what happens when he messes with my city and tries to take what doesn’t belong to him.”

Knight walked toward you as the militiaman immediately released you into his embrace. He cradled you gently even as you tried to push out of his hold. When he got tired of you fighting him, he just picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, carrying you away from the room.

“You’re better off without him anyway.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[johnsjackolantern4902]

Scarecrows reacting to the reader being uncontrollably loud

BTAS from his first episode specifically

He is very cocky about it. You have to kiss him or stuff something in his mouth to get him to shut up.

BTAS

He has to slow down or he's gonna cum too quickly. Seeing you break into nothing but a moaning and shaking mess is making him start to break too. His legs are getting wobbly and he's starting to moan too.

TNBA

Same as BTAS, but it's too damn good to slow down. He tries to hold it back for you, but can't for too long. He also gets really loud without thinking and gets embarrassed about it afterwards.

Salecrow

This man goes full dom on you. He's primitive and possessive af. He is not afraid to also make lots of sounds and he definitely does.

Yellow Lantern

He's cursing you for being so damn hot. He's trying his best not to cum too quick but you're really not making it easy and he jokingly gives you shit for it.

Mof

Confidence boost. For once he feels comfortable in his own skin and not as the Scarecrow. Get ready for his soul to leave his body because the amount of cum that is gonna come out of that man is unreal. Seriously, I hope you have sheet/mattress protection because towels are not gonna cut it.

Arkham Asylum

Oho. Ohohoho. He is LIVING for this. He's all over you. He's taking on the dom role and pretending he has everything under control when in reality, he is mentally fighting for his life not to cum in you too soon. He's not afraid to moan back.

Arkham Knight

Pretty much the same as AA Jon, but he's also fighting to keep going for you despite how tired he's getting and also possibly in pain, but he'll try to hide it. Despite the discomfort, he's also really enjoying it and is too stubborn to stop. He's mainly laser focused on what he's doing, but he does let out the occasional blissful moan in response to sensitive touches. He's a bit of a rougher dom than AA when it comes to physicality, but his words can be as praising or harsh as you want. He knows EXACTLY how to get what he wants out of people after all. Please let him rest for like a year after the session, he can barely move. Also definetly massage his leg and/or foot if he was using his legs. Maybe his back too, especially his lower back and hips. He is not getting off that bed no matter how much he wants to until at least the next morning.

Legends of the Dark Knight

He gets way too excited, goes as fast as he can without thinking and cums almost instantly. You have to train him to be a good boy and wait.

As the Crow Flies

He gets flustered. He starts off by worrying that you might be heard, but ends up way too turned on to care and starts making sounds himself.

Scarebeast

Gets insanely primitive and possessive, you NEED a safe word. Seriously, he loses all concept of how big he is compared to you, which can be very dangerous.

Nightwing

He's very cocky about it, trying to hide how tired he's actually getting (old man stamina).

Man Bat

He is very cocky and does NOT shut up unless you keep his mouth busy.

Catwoman

He's also super cocky, but breaks out into a moaning mess easily if you make the right moves.

Kings of Fear

He tries to act like a dom, but if you so much as look him in the eyes, he breaks too.

Harley Quinn comics

He either gets too tired to keep going or loses control and cums too early.

HQAS

He can't, he breaks too. He's barely keeping it together enough to not cum instantly, but he's hanging on by a thread and he is not gonna last.

Fear State

This man has not slept since the dawn of time. It would take a miracle for him to not need at least one break during the session. Other than that, he loves it. If you're open to overstimulation, he totally does it since the usual reaction is similar to panicking.

No Man's Land

He cums in abundance the second he processes what's happening. He too needs good boy training.

Year One

Laser focused. He's struggling not to let himself go apeshit on you and pound you into the ground until he cums. Luckily he's good at self control, but you very much see that the urge is there. He doesn't have the focus to talk to you, he's way too focused on: keeping you in this state and making you cum (if you can), not doing anything that might cross your boundaries, and not cumming right away.

Knight Terrors

Oh he's teasing you about it. If you try to muffle your sounds or hide your face, it's even better. If you let him, he'll even strip you of your attempts to hide yourself so you're fully vulnerable to him.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Damaged Goods

Summary: When Jonathan Crane comes to work for the GCPD, he sets his sights on the young detective who's involved with Edward Nigma.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 6.7k

Note: This fic is purely self-indulgent and currently not canon to the official Cat & Mouse!Verse...but it might be! The Jonathan x Detective brain rot is real and this desperately needed to be on the page.

Following in the path of Edward Nigma was something Jonathan Crane had never quite pictured himself doing. He did not have the same weakness Edward did: he was not bound by an ego so large that it ruled his every move, or an obsession with riddles and puzzles. Jonathan was immune to such weakness. While, of course, one could say his own obsession was with fear – he did not considered that obsession to be a weakness, to be something that held him down. His obsession made him stronger, made him more capable than the others around him – it was simply too bad the others around him were incapable of showing the true fear on their faces when he walked by. He’d only been at the GCPD for a week now. When City Council approached him a few days ago about a case needing to be solved, men and women being murdered and their bodies melting from the inside out at result of a toxin  that the medical examiner could not identify, he found his interest piqued.

Of course, they offered him something in return: for helping solve the case, he would be granted release from Arkham and the chance to reform. It was a tempting offer, however, Jonathan did not have much use for such things as “reform”. What he did not like was competition – someone else out there experimenting with toxins and causing fear and paranoia in the heart of Gotham’s citizens was his job. Fear was his domain, and he would not be upstaged. However, he couldn’t deny that getting out of Arkham for some time would be a nice reprieve away from his cell in Solitary Confinement. He’d been stuck there for the last several months, hoping to get out as soon as the opportunity presented itself – he just hadn’t imagined it was presenting itself in the form of a City Council member with a tempting offer he couldn’t refuse.

Though, Jonathan admitted he felt a bit like a hypocrite. It was only months ago that he was sitting across from Edward Nigma, being told of the same opportunity the man had been given, and feeling a bit like it was a waste of Edward’s skillset.

“The GCPD?” Jonathan had asked.

Edward only nodded, not looking up, his gaze focused on the white chess pieces in front of him. They’d been a stalemate for an hour now, neither one moving their piece.

“Whatever will you do there, Edward?” Jonathan asked. “Commit yourself to a life of humiliating stares from those around you? You know what they’ll think. What they’ll say.”

Edward’s brows furrowed for the slightest moment, the only tell of his frustration that Jonathan noticed with ease. The two had known each other long enough. But even Jonathan had to admit that Edward’s determination to his silly little reform was quite fascinating. The fact that Edward hadn’t even attempted to break out of Arkham in the last three years was telling enough, and Jonathan only wondered what Edward was afraid of now that Batman was long gone. Still, the thought of Batman had a deep anger rumble in Jonathan’s stomach. The Dark Knight was long gone, and he’d won – being the first to unmask the Bat – but it had not come without it’s own price. Being injected with a high dose of his own toxin had sent him spiraling into his own fear state, one that took him months to recover from. But that was a different time, one he had put behind him long ago.

“I’m going to do it, Crane,” Edward finally said. “Batman is gone. I don’t feel like wasting the rest of my life in a cell. There’s so much greater things out there for my genius and I. Think of everything Gotham is missing out on without me there?”

Jonathan held in a sigh. Of course Edward’s patented ego was coming out, no matter how much he claimed he did not have one. He said nothing, contemplating Edward’s words. In truth, Jonathan felt quite differently – there were much better things Edward could be doing than wasting his time down at the GCPD, but he held his tongue.

Edward finally met his eyes, hardened, dark shadows circling underneath him. “I made a promise, Crane. I don’t intend to break it.” With that, he moved one piece across the board and smirked. “Your move.”

If Jonathan had known he would be following in Edward’s footsteps now, perhaps he’d have done something differently. At the time, he’d thought Edward’s “promise” was foolish, one he would not be able to keep, but so far he’d been proven wrong. He’d heard of the cases that Edward had helped solve with the aide of a silly little Detective – a detective, whom Jonathan had come to learn, Edward had quite the obsession with.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he looked around at the GCPD morgue. There was quite the chill, but he was used to it, and he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the sidewall: three years had done quite the number on him. The mask that had been grafted to his skin had once been his face, but over time, the graft itself had begun to break down. He would have ignored it, if not for the infection that had begun underneath, prompting the Arkham doctors to convince him to go in for surgery to correct more of the damage from Croc’s mauling. Several surgeries later, he still did not quite look like himself: but his nose had been restructured, his lips slightly fixed, though there was still damage to his eye. His brown hair was thinned across his head, fully grown back by now, and yet he didn’t quite care for his appearance. He had been fine with the mask – though the Arkham doctors didn’t seem quite convinced to allow another one to be grafted onto his skin. Perhaps it was for the best, considering the way it’d broken down once.

Frowning, he studied himself a little further, taking note of the little scars across his pale, aged skin. He straightened out the white lab coat he wore, delicately laid out over a pair of tan pants and a brown sweater with gold accents. The brace around his leg was still secure, considering it was permanently broken, but he was used to it. His frown deepened and he turned away, back to the task at hand: the body splayed out across the silver tables, each of the victims’ bodies cold, gray, the stench of death permeating the room. Jonathan’s gaze slid to the other side of the room, where the medical examiner, Dr. Collins, was currently busy working on writing up reports about the victims. Jonathan turned back and headed over to one of the bodies, snatching up the clipboard and quickly skimming the initial reports Dr. Collins had made. The mans findings were…adequate. It was not wonder City Council had called him in to consult on this case; the man certainly was out of his element.

Just as he set the clipboard down, the sound of footsteps got his attention and he perked up just in time to see two people walk inside – you, and your partner, whom Jonathan had come to learn was named Mack Rollins. But Jonathan’s gaze immediately landed on you, studying you with a strange interest, taking note of your black slacks and green blouse that was open just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. Jonathan wouldn’t normally take note of such trivial primal things, but, well…he found himself curious about what Edward Nigma saw in you. He’d never known Edward to have interest in his own primal urges, but knowing that you were capable of wrapping a man like Edward Nigma around your little finger, well…it was quite intriguing. Something he found himself needing to study, to analyze, to pick apart, to understand. What was so special about you that could make a man like Edward Nigma follow you around like a lost puppy dog, with you holding the leash?

That, Jonathan found, was the question he was most curious about.

As soon as you and your partner walked into the room, a strange tension sucked out the air, so sharp it couldn’t be cut with a knife. Jonathan narrowed his eyes, but Mack stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets and said, “Crane. Have you made any progress on our victims?”

Jonathan studied the man slowly, deliberately taking his time to answer the question. He never imagined he’d be down in the GCPD morgue consulting on a case, but here he was. He set the clipboard aside and said, “It seems the victims have all be killed with a concoction of very lethal neurotoxins. Discovering the toxin compound will take time.”

You frowned, glancing down at one of the bodies, studying it carefully. Jonathan noticed the subtle way your lip jutted out, almost as if in concentration – but that was when he noticed something else, too: there, around your neck, was a silver chain, and dangling from it was a green question mark pendant. Clearly a gift from Edward.

Mack sighed, turning to you. “Whoever this bastard is, he’s killed every week. I don’t doubt he’s going to let up, and what is he planning?”

“This could be a trial run,” you said. “An attempt at seeing how his toxin works before he uses it on a mass crowd of people.”

Jonathan smirked, because he had a feeling you were correct in your assumption. It was entirely possible that the culprit was preparing for something big. After all, one did not perfect their toxin without a bit of experimentation, now did they?

Dr. Collins spoke up, “We’re taking care of it,” he said. “Dr. Crane and I are working day and night to analyze the toxins compounds. We’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”

Jonathan glanced at the man, frowning, even though his words were true. Jonathan was being worked like a dog day and night for the last several days since he arrived, and the weight of his newfound ankle monitor around his ankle was certainly not making things easier. The only reprieve he had was to head back to his city council issued apartment and catch a few moments of sleep, but even that was far and few between, as he kept himself awake most of the night pouring over medical files and chemical compounds in an attempt to understand this new toxin roaming Gotham’s streets – and, perhaps, set his own new plans in motion the moment those fools at city hall granted him his reform. But first, he had to play by the rules.

Mack nodded, and turned on his heels, before heading back the way he came. You followed him, but for the slightest second, you met eyes with Jonathan. It was brief, enough to make something coil in Jonathan’s stomach, a strange curiosity, and then you were out of the room without another word.

______

Several hours later, Jonathan found himself rubbing at his tired eyes. It was getting late, and he needed to send over the new reports that Dr. Collins had written up. Easier to do it by email, but he couldn’t help the curiosity building in his veins. He had not been able to stop thinking about you since you left; his curiosity needed satiating. His thoughts only continued to fill with questions: he did not understand what Edward saw in you, or why he’d gift you anything at all. Even if the necklace did look like a shiny collar more than anything.

Collecting his things, Jonathan made his way down the hall and took the elevator up to the Homicide Divisions floor. He waited patiently until the doors opened, and he stepped out, narrowing his eyes. Most of the detectives had gone home for the night, leaving behind empty desks stacked full of mountains of paperwork, but Jonathan’s gaze immediately strayed to the Cybercrimes Division office down the hall. He wandered through the room, each step a dull ache against his broken leg, but when he peeked his head inside – he realized the office was empty. That was, until voices from the other side of the room got his attention.

There, in the break room, he noticed you standing by a coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup. Steam floated into the air, and you turned back, leaning against the counter as you said, “Edward, I don’t understand why you think this will help us.”

“Because, my dear, it’s important that we cross reference everyone from every single pharmaceutical company in Gotham,” Edward replied, his voice smooth, arrogant, familiar.

“That is going to be hundreds of people,” you sighed.

“Correction, my dear: a few thousand,” Edward replied.

There was moment of silence, and Jonathan lingered back, before he heard a small laugh escape from your lips. His eyes narrowed into slits, but he walked into the room, finding you and Edward sitting across from each other at a small table, a laptop in front of Edward. You immediately turned around and found him standing there, and your lips fell open slightly, as if in surprise to see his presence.

“Crane,” Edward said, a hint of surprise in his own voice. “Finally emerged from your cave, I see. How are you faring here in this wondering institution?”

Jonathan was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and Edward – taking note of your body language, the way your foot touched Edward’s underneath the table, how your arm was just a little too close to his own. A clear sign of physical connection that Jonathan was not used to seeing Edward display with someone else.

“I have some records for you,” Jonathan said smoothly. “I thought I’d deliver them myself.” He wandered over, handing over the file to you.

You hesitated, but took it, and for just a moment – your fingertips brushed against his own. The sensation was quick, barely a heartbeat, but for some reason it made Jonathan’s stomach tighten with something strange, a stirring deep within his gut. He met your eyes once more: wide, with a heavy coat of mascara, your lips tinted in a pink, glossy sheen. You glanced at Edward as you took the files.

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” you finally said. “I’m sure this will be helpful to the investigation.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you opened the folder, as if no longer considering him and his presence.

“Crane,” Edward said. “Come. Sit. Do regal us with tales of toxins.” He gestured to the seat in on the other side of the table, before picking up a mug of coffee and taking a slow sip.

Jonathan hesitated. He had work to do, too much, but he found himself interested. He hadn’t spoken to Edward much since arriving to the GCPD, but now was the perfect opportunity to get to know you a little better – perhaps, to understand what this strange hold you had over Edward was that had him so intrigued. There certainly couldn’t be anything that special about you, now could there be?

Jonathan pulled out the chair and sat in between the two of you finally, resting his hands in his lap, but he took note of the way you looked up from the folders and shot Edward a look. A silent conversation seemed to pass between you and Edward, something written in your gaze that intrigued Jonathan even more – but what was it? Perhaps it was apprehension. With the way your shoulders suddenly tensed, he couldn’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty that passed through your eyes. Jonathan lips pressed into a thin line.

“How are you liking it here at the GCPD?” Edward asked, leaning back in his chair as he folded his hands together. “Is it everything you dreamed of, Crane?”

“Why yes, Edward,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I can see why you’ve stuck to your…reform for so long.”

Edward smirked, a low chuckle rumbling from deep within his throat. “Well, I do what I must. Gotham is in need of my services, after all. And what would they do without me?”

You snorted, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Edward shot you a grin and you smiled back at him, an exchange that did not escape Jonathan’s notice.

“Right,” you said, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palm. “Oh yes, the great Edward Nigma, forever offering his services to Gotham. How grateful we are.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Well, detective, someone has to be.”

Jonathan sensed another silent exchange a words, and a tricky look seemed to fill Edward’s eyes. It was quite clear what your relationship with Edward entailed. Jonathan had not been blind to the whispers he’d heard running through the GCPD. The officers certainly liked to talk, and their mouths were bigger than their brains.

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Cash’s voice boomed from the other room, “Nigma! Get your ass in here!” he called out.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Apologies, Crane, but the Commissioner calls.” He backed out of his chair and stood up, before pausing to glance at you once more, and slipping out of the room – leaving Jonathan and you all alone.

His gaze slid to you once again, but your attention was back on the folders before you, spreading out a series of toxicology reports. He couldn’t help but notice the look in your eyes, the way your bottom lip jutted out, as if in a pout, and your brows furrowed with the very obvious look that you had no idea what you were reading.

“Toxicology is not your forte, detective?” he decided to ask.

Finally, you sighed and shoved the papers aside. “Definitely not. I have no idea what any of this means.”

Of course you don’t, Jonathan thought. How could he expect someone as simple as you to understand something so complicated? What ever did Edward see in you? He fought the urge to roll his eyes, trying to keep his composure, and he slid one of the papers back to himself. With his index finger, he pointed to one of the toxins, explaining just what it did and how it affected the human body. You listened intently, nodding, as if taking in all he was saying.

“So,” you said when he was finished. “This is more complicated than I thought.” You leaned back in your chair and groaned, crossing your arms over yourself. Your breasts slightly popped out of your blouse with the movement.

Jonathan was quiet for a long moment. He studied you carefully, trying to understand what was so special about you. But you glanced at him, before looking away again, the movement so fast Jonathan registered it for exactly what it was: a moment of fear.

As if you were afraid of him.

A ripple of excitement surged through Jonathan’s stomach. He lifted his chin slightly, his curiosity increasing, and he found his thoughts wandering – wondering just what would happen if he injected you with his toxin, what kind of response he would get from you. What dark secrets would spill from your lips? What was your greatest fear? What things would you scream out as you writhed around, desperately searching for a way out from your nightmares? That, Jonathan realized, was what fascinated him most of all.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat, your fingers straying upwards to play with the dangling pendant around your neck. “I should be going. Thank you for this, Dr. Crane.” You snatched up the files and began to head out the door. But as you did, you stole one glance back at him, studying him, before slipping out the door without another word.

Jonathan’s lips curves upwards, his curiosity fueling him even more now. He was not sure what it was – but there was something about you that had him…interested, in a way he had not been in a very, very long time. And he was determined to figure out what it was about you that was burrowing into his brain like some kind of rabid parasite, eating away at him. Whatever Edward saw in you, he wanted to find that little thing for himself. And oh, how fun it would be to pry it out of you, to make you squirm, to understand what exactly was so special about you that had Edward wrapped around your little finger. Because if you could make a man like Edward Nigma break…what other dangers did you possess?

That, Jonathan discovered, was what he wondered most of all.

______

The days passed slowly, and Jonathan was no closer to finding the solution to the toxin this new murderer on the streets was using. But with each passing day, as he found himself coming to and from the GCPD, he found himself running into you more often that not. In the halls, he often caught glimpses of you by Edward’s side, and he watched as the two of you left work together, arm in arm, whispering to one another in the shadows. Jonathan was not sure what it was about your relationship with Edward that fascinated him so, but it did not take Jonathan long to learn that the people called you the Riddler’s Whore, whispered about you behind closed doors, found it unbelievable that you would be with a criminal like Edward. And perhaps that was what Jonathan needed answering – why such a respected detective in the GCPD would fall for a criminal, albeit a reformed one, like Edward Nigma.

It did not take Jonathan long to devise a plan of his own, one to get you alone for a small moment, just to ask a few questions. He timed the seconds until he could set his plan in motion, and when the time came, he called upstairs to your desk, asking if you could come downstairs to the morgue. Dr. Collins had already left on his lunch break, and he knew your partner had taken the day off work – leaving you all alone. It did not take long for you to come downstairs, and he heard the elevator doors open, your heels clacking against the floor as you made your way into the morgue. You stepped into the room, hanging back in the doorway slightly.

“You wanted to see me, Dr. Crane?” you asked, one hand gripping the doorway.

Jonathan pretended to barely notice your presence, glancing at you for a split second. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve made progress in determining the toxin,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked, your attention fully on him now.

Jonathan nodded, turning back to his desk, and he glanced at the clock – and right on time, all of the lights in the GCPD went on, bathing everything in darkness. He heard your heals clack against the floor, as if you were shifting back and forth on your feet, and a moment later, a thunderous bang rang throughout, as if the backup generator was kicking on. A soft blue, overhead light came overhead, but most of the room was bathed in darkness.

“Shit,” you mumbled underneath your breath.

It was just as he’d planned – hiring a few men to cut the power to the GCPD and to the elevator. There was no way you’d be getting back upstairs now, at least not until the problem was fixed. He had twenty minutes, tops, perhaps. Enough time for what he needed.

“Afraid, detective?” he asked, busying himself with a few vials of chemicals, carefully not breaking contact from the vials.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” you said, stepping further into the room.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he asked, curious.

You were hesitant for a moment, so long that he turned back to see if you were even listening, but you crossed your arms over yourself and leaned back against the wall.

“All right,” you sighed. “I’ll play your game, Crane. If you want to know, I’m afraid of being eaten alive.”

“Eaten alive?” he asked, brows raising.

“Yeah. You know, by a shark or a crocodile. Or a dinosaur.”

“Dinosaurs went extinct millions of years ago, detective.”

“Well if you can create a fear toxin that makes people experience their greatest fears, what’s stopping some scientists from re-creating the dinosaurs?” you asked, but there was something oddly playful in your tone.

Jonathan did not know how to respond to that. He did not recall ever being questioned about the scientific recreation of dinosaurs before, but alas, that was besides the matter. He turned back to his vials, the stench of chemicals filling his nose. The clinking of vials filled the quiet space.

Jonathan took a moment to listen for any movements, but you said nothing, so he continued, “You and Edward seem quite close.”

“Well, he is my boyfriend,” you said.

Jonathan scoffed at the word, how juvenile it sounded. He glanced back at you and finally said, “I’ve never known Edward to take interest in such…menial pursuits.”

You shrugged, not breaking eye contact from him. “Well, things change.”

Jonathan finally swiveled around in his chair, studying you with clear, careful intent. “And what will you do when he decides he’s finished with you?”

You straightened. Now he had your full attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was his turn to shrug, nonchalantly, as if without care. “We both know Edward only cares about himself. His narcissism doesn’t lie. Surely you can’t be that naïve, can you?”

“I know who he is,” you said, quietly. “I know what he’s done, and I’ve accepted it.”

“Have you now?” Jonathan asked, his curiosity growing. Now this was making him grow even more fascinated: what would cause a GCPD detective like yourself to fall for a criminal like Edward? The two of you were on completely opposite ends of the spectrum, and yet, somehow both enamored with one another.

“Yes,” you replied, staring at him closely, eyeing him as if he might make a move. “What does it matter to you, Crane?”

“I’m simply fascinated,” he replied. “What’s so special about you that has Edward so…enamored. I can see the way he looks at you. The way he follows you around like a poor, lost puppy. I’m…curious.”

Your quiet for a long moment, your eyes narrowing into slits. They sparkled in the darkness, the blue hue of the overhead light casting shadows across the room.

“You’re going to have to ask him,” you finally said, your tone level, composed, but there was just a hint of uncertainty in it that Jonathan detected.

“I’m not asking him, detective,” Jonathan replied. “I’m asking you.”

Your frown deepened, and you finally looked away. “Well, I can’t give you an answer, doctor. Ask Edward yourself.”

Jonathan leaned forward slightly in his seat. “Doesn’t it fascinate you as well?” he asked. “Why someone like Edward Nigma would become so infatuated with you?”

You shifted back and forth on your feet, heels clacking, the only sound in the room, in the quiet stillness. Jonathan counted the minutes – he still had about fifteen to get what he wanted, the answer he was desperate for. His own fascination with you was beginning to grow further, a desperation to understand you. To understood what made you tick, what you feared, the pieces of your mind he wanted to shape and mold and understand.

He could see that look in your eyes, as if you were asking yourself the very same question, trying to understand it yourself. A smirk curved at the edge of his lips, realizing he had you right where he wanted you: questioning the very fabric of your relationship with Edward, held together by fragile threads. Jonathan quirked a brow, studying you carefully.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered him, your voice quiet.

Jonathan clicked his tongue in response. So, even you did not seem to know what was so special about you that had allowed you to wrap Edward around your little finger. But Jonathan was determined to figure out just what little piece of you was – to twist it and mold it to his own.

Jonathan finally stood, backing away from the table of vials and taking a step towards you. “You didn’t answer my question, detective. When Edward has decided he’s had his fill of you – that you’re no longer his shiny new toy – what will you do? I’ve heard the rumors. Tell me…has Nigma ruined you? Corrupted you? When he’s finished with you, who will want you afterwards?”

Your mouth falls open slightly and you step back a little, the shock written clearly across your face. It’s clear his question has taken you aback, and that makes a flicker of pride spark in Jonathan’s chest.

“You’re damaged goods, detective,” Jonathan continue. “No one will want you now that you’ve been…tainted by Edward, will they? He’s taken that innocent part of you and twisted it until there’s nothing left of who you used to be, is there?”

“Crane…” you said, a warning in your tone. “I’m not playing this game with you. Stop trying to get under my skin.” Your body went taught then, and he could practically smell the fear radiating off your skin, a deliciousness that only fueled his intrigue more.

Jonathan stepped a little closer now. “No games, detective. A simple discussion.”

“A discussion that’s starting to piss me off,” you mumbled. “Remember, doctor, I can go right to the Commissioner and have them throw you right back in Arkham.”

One of Jonathan’s brow quirked upwards. “No need for threats, detective. I’m merely expressing my concern. Once Edward has decided he’s had his fill, who will want you? Who will touch you? You’re corrupted, ruined…damaged goods. That’s what you are now, aren’t you?”

In that moment – something fills your eyes: a pure, raw rage, unfiltered, as if burning against the firelight. It’s clear as day, the sudden change in your demeanor, how your anger is beginning to take hold of as fierce as a wicked storm. The change is subtle, but enough for Jonathan to take notice, and his brow quirks up even further in interest.

“I think we’re finished with this discussion,” you said, turning away from him, your gaze sliding towards the door. The power is still out, the elevator still out of use, and there’s nowhere to run, but Jonathan can tell you’re searching for an escape route – he can see the fear that you’re trying so hard to control, to keep contained, and it lights a fire in his belly, stirring excitement deep within him.

Jonathan takes another step closer, and your head snaps to him. “You can feel it, don’t you? How you’re nothing but a tarnished toy? That feeling of hopelessness, knowing that no one will want you when Edward has finished his games with you.”

“I don’t remember asking you for a therapy session, Crane,” you snapped.

The snap makes a shudder run through Crane – and that’s when he see’s it: the fear, unaltered, pure, raw, fear. The fear that you know he’s right – that no one will want you the moment Edward has decided to be done with his shiny new toy. Jonathan knows it’s only a matter of time.

“You know I’m right, don’t you?” Jonathan continues. “You know Edward will bore of you, eventually. And who will want you then, I wonder?”

You said nothing – but the fear in your eyes was clear, sending another ripple of excitement through his stomach. Jonathan took another step closer, until he was a mere inches away from you, listening to the way your breath hitched in your throat – but you did not back down, remaining still, defiant – a clear sign you did not want to give into your fears.

The edges of Jonathan’s lips quirked upwards. “That’s what you’re afraid of most, isn’t it, detective? Being cast aside and treated as nothing but his plaything?”

You didn’t break eye contact from him. “This isn’t a therapy session, Crane.”

The bite in your voice made him tremble. “I’m merely expressing my professional opinion, detective. Edward will have his fun with you, and when he’s finished, you’ll be broken beyond repair. No one will want a tainted little thing like you.”

You scoffed under your breath, turning to face him again. The burning defiance was still clear in your eyes, across your face – but there was something about that defiance, something about the way you held strong, unbroken and unyielding, that made something in him snap. Something stirred in his gut, a strange sensation, an excitement he had not felt in quite some time – years, perhaps, but enough to make the hairs on the back of his own neck raise in question.

“Maybe I like being a little tainted,” you finally said.

Your statement caught him off guard. He had not expected such an interesting response from you – to declare that you did not seem to care how Edward might have ruined you for anyone else. Perhaps, if you were anyone else, you would be cowering from him right now – afraid, trembling, terrified of what he might do to them. But you stood firm, the defiance written across every inch of your skin – and that was when it clicked for Jonathan.

Ah. There it is, he realized, as the puzzle pieces came to place in his own mind. It was your fire – burning as bright as a dying star, refusing to be smoldered – that had Edward so captivated by you. The way you spoke, carried yourself, a flame never going out, no matter how much damage had been done to you. And there had been quite a bit of damage, Jonathan had come to learn – and yet you were not allowing that damage to break you.

And, perhaps, Jonathan liked that, admired it even. A strong mind was rare to come by.

Crossing his hands behind his back, his excitement growing, he began to circle you, like  a hunter stalking its prey. His eyes roamed over every inch of you, taking in the parts that he had not allowed his eyes to stray to for too long. He was not a man who gave into such…primal desires before, but standing here, listening to your defiance – it excited him, in a way he had not been excited in a very, very long time.

“So, you enjoy the thought of being ruined and tainted by Edward? Interesting, very interesting,” he murmured, making a mental note of every word out of your mouth, how your body language threatened to betray you.

“What does it matter to you anyways, Crane?” you sighed, a sound out of your mouth that somehow sounded both bored and exasperated.

That made him pause, stopping his tracks right in front of you. His gaze roamed over you from head to toe, before landing on the green question mark necklace resting delicately at the hollow of your throat. Jonathan took a step closer, before reaching forward and capturing the pendant between his first two fingers, rubbing at the surface with slow, delicate care. You sucked in a breath, your body going taught, and you began to take a step back, but Jonathan only tightened his grip on the necklace, making you pause.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he continued, his voice low. “The way he touches you. Edward is positively smitten with you. Now I can see why.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. You were just inches away from him, enough that he could take in every delicate line on your face. “Let go of me,” you whispered,

He ignored your demand, swirling his thumb along the dips and grooves of the pendant, before his gaze met yours again. “This little trinket says quite a lot more about your relationship with Edward, doesn’t it? That you belong to him?”

The breath hitched in your throat. “So what if I do? Does that bother you?” There was a tremble to your voice now, one Jonathan couldn’t help but notice.

He quirked a brow. “It’s simply an observation, detective,” he said. “But when the time comes for him to discard you, whatever will you do? That’s what scares you the most, isn’t it? That desperate, primal need to be wanted, even if it’s by a man who will never love you?”

You sucked in a shallow breath, as if trying to keep yourself composed. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Crane. If I want therapy, I’ll get it from someone else.”

The bite in your voice makes Jonathan pause, but the corners of his mouth quirk upward. He tilts his head to the side, his gaze roving over your body in fascination, wondering what a dose of his toxin would do to you – what sort of secrets you would reveal, how long it would take for that precious little mind to break. But he could see it in your eyes, the truth you were fighting so hard not to reveal: your true fear was not being eaten alive. It was being tossed aside and unloved, forgotten, unwanted. Jonathan could see it written across your face plain as day.

But you didn’t break your gaze from him, the defiance still written clear as day, as if you were trying to prove to yourself and to him that you weren’t afraid. Excitement bundled in Jonathan’s stomach, a desire, a need, an aching suddenly pooling in his core, to watch that defiance in your eyes fade into nothing but submission and surrender. Jonathan smirked, his thumb continuing to trace circles over the pendant in slow, meticulous strokes.

Your breathing was shallow, but your gaze narrowed, and you finally reached up to swat his hand away, but with his other hand, he grabbed your wrist tightly. You gasped as his fingers dug into your skin, and he nudged you back, until your waist hit the small metal table. His grip tightened on your necklace, carefully yanking your head closer to him, until he was but inches away from you, your breath on his skin.

“Come now, detective,” he said lowly. “Acts of physical violence aren’t tolerated here at the GCPD, now are they?”

“Crane…” you said, a warning in your tone. He could feel you shuddering against him, the terror in your eyes exciting him, even though you fought hard to control it.

He finally dropped the pendant, but his fingers hovered a little too long near your collarbone, before he dropped your wrist as well and dropped his hands back to his sides. Excitement pooled in his stomach, aching deep inside of him. He took a step back, and just as he did, the lights flickered on once more, bathing the room in a bright white light glow. He took a step back and tucked his hands into his pockets, turning away as if the entire interaction hadn’t happened at all, returning to his desk and the vials and reports surrounding him. As he slid back into his seat, he watched you spin on your heels, muttering something vulgar under your breath. Jonathan chuckled lowly to himself, and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors ping out.

“Detective?” Dr. Collins asked from down the hall. “Are you all right?”

Your gaze slid back to him, then to Dr. Collins. “Everything’s fine.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Dr. Collins asked, lowering his voice, but Jonathan could still hear, listening in.

You were silent for a beat, before shaking your head. “No. I’m fine.” Then you turned and walked away, out of the room, your heels clicking on the way down the hall.

Jonathan returned to his work, smirking. A productive session. He’d already learned enough about you in twenty minutes than he had all week – and what he’d learned had been very, very fascinating. Now he understood what Edward saw in you, what would draw you to him, make him…crave you. Jonathan paused, his fingers hovering over the vials as a hint of something pulsed in his stomach, spreading down to his loins, tightening in the confines of his pants. Crave. That word meant a lot of things. And, the more he began to think about it, the more his own craving for you began to grow into something deeper, into something he had not felt in quite a very, very long time.

Smirking, one thought crossed his mind, Until next time, pet.

It was a good thing Jonathan didn’t mind damaged goods.

The amazing @finzphoenix did a wonderful job of drawing what I imagined a post-Arkham Knight Jon would look like, which you can find here!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

If you want to could you please do a fic with Jason's Girlfriend (rather Arkham Night or when he is still early Red Hood) gets hit with Scarecrow's fear toxin and Jason is trying to help her through it or give her an antidote. But she is terrified of him and think he is attacking or trying to kill her. Maybe it's because while she does love him and he loves her she started working with him because she is helping Batman get Jason to hopefully see his family again and Jason does know so she is scared of his reaction. Sorry if that's confusing or a lot.

Thank you for reading whether you do the request or not

-🍓

Guilty Hearts

Hi 🍓! I know this took a while to get out but I hope you see it. I think we might be psychically linked because this came into my ask box while I was editing my other fear toxin fic. Enjoy! ~1k words

The Arkham Knight is going to destroy whoever caused you to get like this. He stands, ridged and protective, between you and the milita medics who are shifting uneasily behind him. You're curled into the corner of the room, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around yourself. He never breaks his gaze as you rock yourself, silent tears spilling down your cheeks.

Seventy-two minutes. That's how long you've been like this. Trapped in the nightmares of your mind's own creation, hallucinations caused by a dosage of Scarecrow's fear toxin. 

He doesn't know how you got like this, what happened, he didn't bother to ask when he was finally informed. The Arkham Knight just stormed his way to you. 

The medics managed to tell him that you've screamed your voice raw but still fought anyone who got close enough to try and stick you with the antidote. 'That's his partner,' he thinks. Always the fighter.

He scowls behind his helmet when he notices the self-inflicted scratch marks over your arms, a common reaction to the toxin. "Everybody out." He snaps, snatching a needle filled with the antidote from one the medics. They file out quickly, sensing his mood. They should be running. Everyone knows what you are to him. He's made it more than clear and the fact that you're suffering? The fact it took over an hour for him to be told? He'll make sure someone pays for that later.

But that is later, and this is now. You're what's most important. He tugs off his helmet once the last medic leaves the room and takes a step towards you.

You let out a raw, strangled cry with what's left of your voice. He doesn't know what you're seeing, what you think he is, but it makes his heart clench to see you so scared. He knows he can be frightening now, so different from what he used to be. But he'd never hurt you, never, not on purpose. 

The Arkham Knight crouches down to your level, and says your name softly, carefully, trying not to startle you. "I'm here to help, I promise, baby. I need you to trust me. I'm going to make it better." He soothes, creeping closer to you inch by inch. He makes sure to stay low, to make himself look smaller.

It doesn't seem to help, fresh tears fall faster from your eyes and you whimper. He repeats your name over and over, trying to draw you away from whatever fear is tormenting you. "Just hold on a little longer. It's going to be okay. I'm going to make it okay."

He shifts closer to you, reaches out one hand to try and touch you, and you bolt, scrambling to get as far away from him as possible. 

He catches you around the waist, needle clattering to the floor as he wrestles you to the ground. It's harder than it should be, he's trying to be gentle, trying not to harm you, but you're kicking and crying and clawing like you'll die if you don't fight. The Arkham Knight wonders what you see, what twisted image is taking over your mind as you fight him.

You see him. The Arkham Knight– Jason. You know there's something wrong with you, something bad, but between the pounding of your heart and the way the shadows seem to writhe, you can't remember what it is. 

You tried to get away from him– it. He's angry at you, you know he is. You can hear it in the robitical breathing, the way fire dances in place of the glowing whites of his eyes. 

You're scared. You don't know how he knows. You don't know how he found out or what he thinks, but he's going to hurt you. That's what the choir of hissing voices whispers into your ear. 

He knows you've helped Batman– Bruce. You didn't want to betray him. You weren't trying to hinder his revenge plan in any way. Bruce didn't even know it was you who told him. You just– all you did was tell him to have extra fear toxin antidotes ready. You just couldn't stand the thought of someone losing the people they loved, not when you knew exactly how it felt.

The Arkham Knight freezes when you start to beg. He's never heard you so scared, so shaken. You sound like he did. Back in that cell.

You thought a part of him might understand that. Your adrenaline spikes when he reaches for something just out of your field of vision. He's going to hurt you. He's going to make you pay for your disloyalty. You let out a sob and start to beg, broken pleas of his name leave your lips, it's the only sound you can make anymore.

"Please, Jason," You rasp out, "m'sorry. So sorry." He shushes you as you start to paw at his chest plate in a last ditch attempt to get away. Always so strong, you are. 

Jason takes your wrists in one hand and sticks the needle into your skin with the other, releasing the antidote into your bloodstream. 

"There you go, there you go, doll. Good job." He mumbles into your hair, pulling you up so you can settle in his lap, his arms securely around your body. Your breathing is shaky, uneven, and your hands move to curl into the straps of his armor. You're not trying to get away from him anymore, proof the antidote is taking hold. 

He keeps cooing mindless reassurances as you cry quietly into his shoulder, his hand running soothing lines up and down your back. He presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you a little tighter to him.

When you're more yourself, Jason will tell you you have nothing to be sorry for. He knows. Of course, he knows what you told Bruce. He knows everything about you. If spilling a few secrets to his plan eases your guilty conscience and keeps you by his side, so be it.

Scarecrow's just a means to an end anyway. All that matters is that you stay. That you keep following him down his path in hell, and if you turn to look back a few times, well, he'll just hold your hand all the more tighter and keep dragging you along with him.

[visionsofmagic]

✦ mini masterlist: marvel & dc

➤ info.: more works including marvel & dc can be found in special/events masterlist too! writing mostly for comic versions of characters [for dc] & cinematic universe [for marvel]. requests are open as well. enjoy!

⭒ main masterlist.

✩︙dc/dc comics

‣ bruce wayne/batman

⤹ differences [m] ··· having sex with bruce and the batman is totally different. [1 of 2] [2 of 2]

⤹ bad reputation [m] ··· when gotham’s millionaire invite you to his own house party, you know how it’s going to end. even if everyone knows his bad reputation, including you, with a one look, he takes you under his control and it’s even not the first time. [oneshot]

‣ jason todd/red hood/arkham knight

⤹ not enemies ··· the enemy of yours, jason for sure was annoying as hell but there was something that pull you two together and he knew this damn well. [oneshot]

⤹ kiss or kill [requested] ··· after come across with jason in a mission, hidden feelings finds a way to get free and they make you do the things you always wanted to do. [oneshot]

‣ morpheus/dream the endless/the sandman

⤹ i missed you. ··· after disappearing for over a century, Morpheus finally get his freedom again. as he takes his sand back he begins to find you, his beloved girlfriend or was at least, who has given a gift from him, a stone that stops aging like endless. however, everything turn into ashes as he sees your new life, with someone else. [oneshot]

✩︙marvel/mcu

‣ bucky barnes/the winter soldier

⤹ so brave [m] ··· after your last mission together, bucky’s jealousy rise. [as prompt: “You were so brave tonight.”, “About what?”, “About forgetting who you belong to. But don’t worry, I will make you remember.”] [oneshot]

‣ doctor strange

⤹ the soul of a magician ··· y/n is a magician in Kamar-Taj but little she didn’t know how powerful her magic is. she begin to discover her power while trying to protect her secret lover, doctor strange. [1][2]

‣ loki laufeyson

⤹ being the God of Mischief’s favorite human ··· Thor isn’t Loki’s favorite entertainment in Asgard, you are. [1] [2][3][4] [5]

‣ headcanons

⤹ marvel characters ··· watching a movie with them [what kind of movie they will want to watch, how they will act during it, how they will handle if an intense scene appear and little touches between you begin to occur] [link]

VISIONSOFMAGIC, 2024. 💦

[lightwing-s]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲| 𝐣. 𝐭.

pairing: arkham knight!jason todd x female!reader warnings: angst, violence, domestic abuse  word count: 2,4k summary: gotham pulls you down, jason pulls you harder. a/n: after reading the arkham knight comic i found myself obsessed and wrote this some time ago while in between finals. there will be a part 2, so wait for it soon ♡ ⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

A long time ago, someone I knew, someone I loved, told me something I would never forget: Gotham has powers over its people. Just like gravity, pulling you down, making it hard for you to leave. 

At that point, I didn't understand. But as time went by, it all became clear.

I wanted to leave. And I tried to. So many damned times, almost on a daily basis. And yet, here I am. Still in this goddamn place.

But he also told me, on that same day, that although the gravity field was heavy, I could be stronger. That I was stronger. I could push it away, get out of here. What doesn’t kill you makes you a hell of a lot stronger, Y/n.

It all started on a Thursday night. I was given the day off on Friday, and like every reckless young adult, I had decided to spend my night getting drunk with my so-called friends at a bar, just around the corner of the street he once owned. Even if it’d been years, I could never not remember him everytime I walked by.

But that time, for the first time in forever, it didn’t cross my mind. I had missed it. I had… forgotten. It would be days later when the guilt started eating me up. How could I’ve forgotten him? How did I suddenly stop caring?

We were having fun, dancing around, chatting, and having drinks. Having many drinks. I must have drunk double my weight in alcohol, yet somehow still managed to stand on my two feet. My boyfriend, almost as drunk as me, hung out with his friends not paying me much attention. I guess he didn’t care that it was my birthday, but I guess even I forgot about that. It had been years since I last cared for it, nothing making much sense celebrating once he was gone.

I was looking for a toilet, stumbling my way around the crowded place while my bladder made it harder to walk around. 

And that’s when I felt it. The eyes on me. Like an eagle’s fixed on its prey. A sniper aiming at it’s target. I never understood when books and movies talked about this feeling until I felt it myself. My hair stood on end, the air suddenly thickening around me, my heart beat gaining pace. 

Something I could never, even in the wildest of my dreams, ever have imagined. I thought, maybe, I was making it all up, like some kind of drunken hallucination. Or that finally the terrors of Gotham had gone so up my head that I started seeing things. Things that weren’t real. Things that, at least, weren’t supposed to be.

Yet, there he was. Like a ghost. Clad in a red hoodie, staring straight at me through the dirty, fogged up glass window. The guy I thought I had seen the last of when I was still a just dumb teenager. 

Even though he stood so far away from me, I could see his gloomy semblance. His tired eyes, still bright blue as I had always remembered. But once our eyes met, all that pain and melancholy went away, as his face softened, and his eyes held the same sparkle in them as years ago. It could never be someone else, I would recognize my Robin whenever and wherever I saw him.

“Jason?” I whispered to myself, or at least I thought I had as I would later be informed I had drawn many eyes to me at that moment. But I didn’t care. He was here. It was all that mattered.

I had forgotten everything. Everyone. I stormed out of that crowded bar and ran into the streets. Into his arms. Arms that embraced me, tightly, like I was the last  good thing on this Earth. Like I was his own life, threatening to slip away at any moment. And for the first time in ages, I felt at home.

My boyfriend didn’t like the way I’d left that night. Well, my ex boyfriend. I couldn’t pull up with his shit anymore. Not with him being back.

After our embrace, Jason didn’t want to stay in the street for too long, at the time I didn’t know why, so I just went away with him. God knew where he was taking me, but I trusted him with my life like I always did. All I remember are the city lights flying past us, as we rushed through the streets hand in hand. His ever so sweet tone as we made our first stop under the lights of Old Wayne Tower. How he treated me, how he paid attention. His tender touch, his breath meeting mine, the scarred skin of his face as I caressed his cheek, and his soft lips against mine.

It was just me and him, the world getting blurry around us, reality and dreams blending together for a moment. And from then on, nothing else mattered. It was us against the world.

He took me home, or where I thought his home was then. He dragged me by the hand, swerving through the crowds, pushing through people, but never loosening his hold.

“I’m not gonna lose you again, Y/n.” he looked back to tell me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, as I tried to fix his hold. His smile blinded me to everything else but him. He was  all I could see. Nothing else.

He led me through an alley to an abandoned diner, and dragging me inside, he took me to a secret door. I must have been too dumbfounded, mind too foggy, still too drunk, as I don’t remember our way up to his room. I just remember standing there, in the almost emptiness of the dark room, filled only with a bed and a desk, a picture of us as teenagers sitting on top of it. I was feeling uneasy, but yet safe.

“I thought you were dead.” I told him, voice cracking and tears flooding my eyes. “I went to your memorial”

“I know… I know it must all be too confusing to you.” he said, holding my face in his large hands, thumbs wiping the tears that had dared to fall down my cheeks. “You will understand. Soon. I just can’t explain it right now.”

Resting his forehead on mine, he took a moment to breathe. Breathe in my scent, breathe in the quiet. His eyes were closed, but when he opened them they bore deep into mine, not giving me a single chance to look away. Not that I would, no. I was already trapped in his gravity field, pushing me down, trapping me deeper, harder  than I would imagine.

“Do you trust me, Yn?” he asked, voice nothing more than a whisper. I could not reply, I didn’t know why. “Do I scare you? With my scars. With how I returned?”

All I did was shake my head no. I wasn’t scared. I would never be scared of Jason Todd. My Robin, my whole world, my safety net ready to catch me whenever I fall. And how I had fallen, so many times. And I had fallen again.

“Good girl.” he said, leaning down once more to give me a kiss on the nose. “Good, good girl. I knew you would never forget about me, because I never forgot about you.”

I was fifteen when I met Jason. Sad and lonely, walking down the streets of Gotham like there was nothing better in the world for me to do. And at that time, I really didn’t.

It was getting darker, the sun lowering down on the horizon. The loud music blasting in my ears, probably some angst pop punk tunes I was into back then, and still secretly listen to till this day, distracting me from my surroundings, making me feel like the only one in the world, when a loud scream took me off my dreamland.

“Didn’t you hear a thing?” asked this tall and dark haired boy. Removing one of my earplugs, and without any words, my confused eyes asked him 'what'. “That guy over there,” he pointed behind his back to a shadow taking the corner onto the next street. “… he was trying to rob you.”

I remember turning back swiftly, causing a sting of pain on my neck, and finding my backpack slightly open. Checking it out, I found nothing was missing and thanked him for the warning.

“You go down here every day, right? I’ve noticed you walking past here for a while. Always around the same time.”

“I live just a few minutes down.” I told him, not noticing the little hint at an obsession in his tone.

“Can I walk you home?” he offered, cheeks slightly tainted red. “It’s a bit dangerous around here at this time.”

“Won’t it be dangerous for you too?” I questioned innocently. Oh, silly me.

“I can handle myself around here.”

From then on, he walked me home every night. He also walked me to school, and also spent every free time we had walking aimlessly around the neighbourhood, pretending our lives were great for those few couple hours we had together. 

He became my shield from the world. My best friend. My white knight. He took my mind away from my family and how shitty they were. With him I was happy for a few moments, until he dropped me two houses from mine, so no one would see us, so my dad wouldn’t get mad, and I had to return to the rash, sad reality that was my daily life.

One morning, Jason came to pick me up, but instead of finding me at our regular spot, he found me at my door, wearing the same clothes as the day before, laying my head on my backpack, trying to shield the cold away with a single denim jacket and failing miserably as my body shivered intensely. On my lip, a deep cut, and a soft purple mark decorated my left eye.

“Y/n?” He shook my body, waking me up tenderly. “What did he do?”

His voice was the complete opposite of his touch, though,  covered in anger. He knew who had done that, he didn’t know why, but knew it wasn’t enough reason. There was never enough reason. He knew the culprit and he’d make him regret it. As much as I tried to, I couldn’t stop him, a pattern I would later find out would repeat itself countless times. He was too strong for me to push him away.

He aggressively knocked on my door, pushed my mom out of the way once she opened it, and searched the house for my father, the one person I hated the most in my life, and whom he hated just as much. He found him in his office, hitting the door closed behind him. Me and my mother didn’t know what to do. We just stood and waited, as we heard screams and the sound of things breaking inside the room. Her bruised hands holding firmly onto mine.

When the door reopened a few moments later, all I could see was Jason’s sore knuckles as he rushed out the house, pulling me by the wrist with. I didn’t know then, or perhaps I did, but that was the moment I fell in love with Jason Todd.

I wouldn’t see my dad till weeks later, when he returned home from the hospital. And that was also the last time I saw him, as he kicked me out for “hanging around with the wrong people”. My mom was devastated, but I didn't care. I was finally free.

A family friend took me in, and Jason continued to walk me home and everywhere else. He would visit me every night. We would often share my bed, as we quietly and secretly, made our love physical, real. As we made us into our reality. Up until he went away.

The first time Jason was taken from me had me broken into little pieces. I thought it would take long till I saw him again, but soon I received a letter from a police officer. 

In it, he told me he was put into a new school as part of this new troubled kids program.  For several months, I read him raving about his new school, the new opportunities, and how he finally had a chance at a brighter future.

I was happy for him, truly. But I couldn’t help the small knot forming in my throat from both jealousy and from just how much I missed him.

Until one day, he knocked on my door, ready to take me to school as we did before, just this time not on foot.

Getting used to Jason as a multi millionaire’s ward wasn’t easy, and I could sense him drifting away with each passing day. He wasn’t the same Jason I knew, even though he hadn’t changed even a bit with me. He just had a new life. A double one I came to know of one night when he climbed up my window.

His visits became regular, and as much as I felt Jason slipping away, Robin was still mine.

And then he was taken from me again. That time, for good. And I was never the same.

All those years, Gotham’s gravity field kept pulling me further and further down, as much as I tried to escape it. Jason’s words echoed in my head, but I knew I couldn’t be strong enough to break away. So I stayed in this city, working low paying jobs, getting around with the wrong kind of people. Trying to make my way through this tumultuous situation that never seemed to get better.

But now, laying naked in Jason’s room, covered only by the thin cotton sheets of his bed, feeling sore and exhausted, feeling cared for and complete, a whole new sense of belonging, of excitement and hope filled me to the brim. I felt unstoppable beside him, like everything would finally settle into place, allowing me to quit this gravity field for good.

Gotham’s gravity is strong, but Jason’s is a lot stronger. And I would learn it the hard way.

.

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[finzphoenix]

Hello! This is going to be super random and I know scriddler is the most popular, but do you think shipping Jason Todd and Jonathan Crane is possible? Or is that too bizarre? What would even be the shipping label/name? I've been thinking about it ever since my last post about Jason, and this is not the first time. While Jason is the Red Hood and/or The Arkham Knight not Robin. Also not necessarily just within the Arkhamverse just in general. I truly do feel like if they knew eachother they would get along very well. I wholeheartedly agree with you about Rocksteady too. How they treated poor Jonathan, plus the Arkhamverse as a whole, is absolutely horrible. Especially since Jonathan was such a badass in Arkham Asylum. I personally like to think others (Edward, Jason, or both who knows) helped Jonathan eventually snap out of his hallucinations after Arkham Knight. Anyways, since you do such a fantastic job I was wondering if you could draw something with Jason and Jonathan in it? 😊 Only if you want to of course haha.

Dear, I'd say, as long as it is within the bounds of legal and somewhat morally correct scenarios, go nuts shipping whoever you want with whomever you want! ^^

As far as my opions go, I do think Todd would at the very least be a rather intriguing case study for him.

Just think: a boy grown up in an violent environment surived by adapting a volatile temper, before being taken under the wing of a man who kept exposing him to said violent environment, instead of removing him from it? Then, given weapons and a mission, Batman effectively build an echo chamber that reflected and reinforced Todd's beliefs about the rightness of using violence as a means to an end?? Through which he eventually died, then came back to the living, and suffers from PTSD??!

Yeah, I think Crane would have a field day probing and prodding this man's brain, and who knows, they may just grow close in the process. Everything's possible in Gotham!

Additionally, ever since this ⬇️ panel, I think everyone and their cat knows that he'd be very eager to make Jason's fear his (which is incredibly sus, let's be real) 👀👀. So sure! Ship them as hard as you like, no one's gonna stop you!