#getting to arkham knight at last is Something

[eyepatchdate]

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]

The Facade of You

I wanted to write him off putting and cocky at the same time, but that sure is a fine line. Reader is a bit of a spitfire when they probably should keep their mouth shut. (And I love that) ~2.3k words

When the Arkham Knight wants something, he gets it. Driven. Focused. Torrent in his mission and desires. You knew it from the moment you met him. Knew it the second you swung the aluminum baseball bat at his head, and he stopped your swing without even a flinch.

This was going to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than it already was.

Most of Gotham had evacuated because of whatever insane plan Scarecrow had crafted. Most, but not all. You had shored yourself up in your apartment, ready to ride out whatever happens from the comfort of your own home.

Was it the smartest decision? Maybe not. But you had survived blizzards in July, streets lined with living plants, and some guy who liked to run around hosting tea parties while wearing a top hat. So, you think you could be forgiven if you thought you could handle some threats of fear gas and anarchy.

And honestly, you probably could have. If not for the figure wearing armor worth more than your whole apartment breaking through your window.

On any other day, you probably would have screamed at the sight of the stranger standing in your living room. But tonight, there's no neighbors to call the cops, no vigilantes with time to spare patrolling the streets to hear you cry for help.

So you swung. Swung your bat right for his weird, glowing helmet with all your strength.

His fingers caught and curled around the metal before you even registered him moving. Everything seemed to go still, your instincts practically screaming at you to flee. You didn't need to see his face to know that he's smirking at you, head tilting like what you did was interesting, but pointless.

The silence stretches as you try to tug the bat from his hold, but the man doesn't even seem to move. No, he only starts to laugh at you, laughs like this is the last he expected, like the entire situation is ridiculous.

It draws a scowl to your face. So what if he's covered head to toe in armor and weapons? He broke into your apartment to what? Revel in your misery? Make fun of you? And you're just supposed to take that?

You open your mouth to confront him, to demand answers, when he laughs again, low and still full of disbelief, "Of course, of course you're still in this damned city. I shouldn't be surprised. Always in places you shouldn't be, aren't you."

He punctuates his words with a low, long drawl of your name, the letters falling off his tongue and through the modulator of his helmet as if he's said them a million times.

He drops his hold on the bat, but it hardly matters when your own grip starts to slack at the sound of your name, "Who are you," You demand, every hair on edge as the stranger starts to pace your apartment, almost as if he's looking for something to occupy himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know," he murmurs, picking up a framed photo, "It's not part of the plan. But I suppose I'm to blame for not expecting this of you."

You step forward, anger clouding your better judgment at the sight of him picking over your things like they're his own, "Put that down."

He turns his head towards you, lifting the photo to your field of vision, "This? It's hardly important."

You grit your teeth at the sight. It is important. More than he could possibly understand. Yours and Jason's smiling face shines from the picture behind the glass, your figures illuminated by the rare summer sun Gotham gets. It's one of the only pictures you have of him, some of the only evidence he was ever in your life.

You lunge forward without warning, dropping your bat in a bid to grab the frame. He easily side steps your desperate attempts. Something seems to shift in the air as he practically purrs, "whoops," and drops the photo from between his fingers.

The breath leaves your lungs as the glass shatters, leaving the photo in a pile of shards and broken wood. Your gaze snaps back to him, outraged, "Who do you think you are? How dare–"

"You can call me The Arkham Knight," he cuts in simply, stepping on the shards– on the photo of Jason– like it's less than nothing.

"What do you want," You hiss, biting back insults over how insane you think he sounds. You match his step forward with your own backward motion, keeping space between you.

"To make Batman pay," he drawls, honest and never slowing his steps towards you, even as you rapidly run out of space between you and the wall.

You shift your free hand to your pocket, trying to fumble for your phone without him noticing, "Then why are you here? I'm not Batman."

He finally stops stalking your every step as your back hits the wall, lingering only an arms length away from you, "No," he relents, "You're not Batman. But he does feel responsible for you."

"He feels responsible for everyone," You protest, fingers tapping blindly across your phone. Your voice shakes, even as you try to hide it. But it's hard not to be intimidated by the man towering over you, by the unblinking whites of his mask shining on your face.

He sighs, like whatever game he's playing suddenly went dull, "It's a shame you were here. Really. It would have been better if you'd left the city."

You press send on your phone. At least, you hope the (ideally) coherent message you're trying to get to Babs without seeing is sending, "Are you going to kill me?"

He recoils like the idea repulses him. It's the first bit of proof you've gotten that he even has feelings outside of whatever front he's been putting up. But he settles back into that lazy, uncaring pose, nodding towards your pocket, "Go ahead, sweet thing. Call Barabra. Call Dick. Call Bruce, even. They won't help you. Even if it wasn't such a busy night, you've never been their priority."

You tense, frozen under his unwavering gaze and the revelation of his words. His jabs don't bother you. He's clearly trying to get under your skin. But, he– The Arkham Knight– knows. Your mind races as your breathing shallows. He knows about Batman– everyone. But how much does he know? How much could he know? Their identities, that secret, it always felt untouchable.

It nearly makes you tremble. Is that why he's here? To get back at them somehow through you? It hardly makes sense if it's true. Jason's the one that cared about you– that wanted you to be okay.

His words feel like a trap. The idea that he wants you to call for help is just another game he's letting you play. But you pull out your phone anyway, your eyes never really leaving him even as you dial a number with trembling fingers.

The line rings. And rings. Then, "Hi, it's Barbara–"

"Babs, I need–" You start, only to be cut off by the continued message.

"I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the tone, and I'll be sure to get back to you!"

Your heart drops, and you don't get the chance to consider your options before the Arkham Knight is plucking your phone out of your hands to end the call. He tosses your only hope of getting help towards your couch.

His voice is mocking, when he speaks again, "See? They can't even save themselves. How could you think they'd bother with you?"

"Why are you here," You ask instead, desperate to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, the fear creeping up your spine.

He hums, and reaches up to grab your chin, turning your face this way and that to study you. "A lapse in judgment. Curiosity. A weakness for the past. It hardly matters," he mutters, more for himself than you, "What matters is what to do with you."

"You could leave me here," you suggest quickly, grabbing at his wrist to keep him still, "Pretend you never saw me. I won't get in the way. I'm– I'm no vigilante. I won't be any trouble."

He scoffs, dropping his hand from your face, "This city would eat you alive. You can't handle what's coming."

"And what's it to you," You snarl, sounding braver that you feel and driven by the annoyance course through your veins. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. (Just not necessarily against military trained rouges)

That seems to snap him to attention, and you regret your words immediately. You've essentially given him a reminder that you mean as much to him as the photo he left broken on the floor. And if he wanted to send a message to Batman, it would be easy to start with you.

"It's nothing to me," he hisses back, but even the modulator in his helmet doesn't hide the tightness– the near lie– of his voice, "You're in over your head, doll. If anything, you should be grateful I'm showing you the truth."

Your blood runs cold, your tone sharpens, and your eyes narrow. He doesn't have the right. Jason's the only one that's ever nicknamed you doll. His eyes always seemed to shine when he said it. "Don't call me that," You warn, words dripping with malice.

He honestly snorts at you, unimpressed by your threat, "What's wrong, doll? Hit a sore spot?"

You throw yourself at him, aiming a fist for his dumb helmet as your heart pounds in your ears. If he's going to make an example of you, use you against Batman, you're not going to lay back and just let him pick at your wounds.

He catches you like he expected it, hauling you into the air as you scream obscenities and curses, kicking and hitting your fists against his armor until he dumps you unceremoniously onto the couch. You scramble for your discarded phone, and he's quick to pin you down, his knee braced to your stomach to keep you from moving as he knocks your phone out of reach.

He huffs as if this is just a minor setback, reaching down to fix the wrinkles forming in your clothes every time you struggle, "And here I thought you liked being called doll."

"Not by you," You practically spit, all rationally thrown out the window as you continue to squirm. You bring your nails up to his arm, trying to dig into any weak spots in his armor for a chance to escape, to make him hurt.

"Only by me, sweet thing," he coos, and your world stills to a halt as he clicks the faceplate of his helmet back.

Jason Todd is grinning at you. It's not quite right. His eyes are wilder than you remember, his smile too forced, too tense. There's more scars across his skin than you recall there being. A stark white brand stands out on his cheek. But it's him. Undeniably him.

"Now where'd all your fight go," he questions, fingers trails up to rest on your throat, "no need to look all surprised, doll."

All you can offer is his name falling from your lips, eyes wide, and face shell-shocked.

He tuts, fingers flexing ever so slightly against your pulse, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"They told me you were dead," you choke out, unable to fight the tears threatening to well in your vision.

"They lied," he says simply, as if that answers anything. He lifts his hand from your throat to press his thumb against your lower eyelid, the light pressure forcing your tears to spill onto the fabric of his glove.

"Jason–" You try again, wanting answers, comfort, anything you can latch onto.

He only shushes you, "I don't blame you, sweet thing, for falling for it. That's just what they do. They lie. Change the narrative to fit their twisted perceptions. But I'll help you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. All you need to do, is come with me."

It's a bad idea. You feel it down to your bones. Jason, your Jason, isn't the one digging his knee into your stomach, isn't the one collecting your tears on his glove like they're a trophy. But he is Jason, and he's only ever done what's best for you. So going with him has to be right, has to be what you're supposed to do.

You nod. What else could you do? How could you even think to deny him when his face lights up in the shadow of how he used to smile at you?

He stands, and it takes every bit of strength you have not to surge forward and beg him not to when he clicks his helmet back shut. The Arkham Knight– Jason– offers you a hand, and you don't need a second thought to take it.

You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. He said it himself, he didn't plan for you to even be here. But his grip is steady in yours, and he keeps turning his head to check on you as he leads you across your apartment and to the window.

Relief clouds your mind, the idea that everything could be okay as long as he's back. So you follow him, don't ask questions even as he leads you down the fire escape and towards a suspiciously armored truck.

You don't press, even as he barks orders at the driver that's dressed more like a soldier than a chauffeur.

You let him tell you that you made the right choice. That he's going to fix all of this, that you being here will help in the end. You let him guide you through Gothams ruined streets, far away from your home, from where the memory of him is shattered on the floor.

And if you left your phone ringing over and over again on your couch in a frantic attempt to reach you, you're far too blinded by the echo of the boy you're chasing to care.

[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 //

[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!!!

[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.”

[writers-wrongs]

Have you seen Arkham Knight VR? Riddler's self-aware in it! Could have some existential horror potential if you wrote headcanons or something for that version of him as a yandere >:-D (or just about self-aware Eddie from the mainline games...?)

as a ddlc fan, i love self aware game characters. and if anyone in arkham knight was gonna be sentient, itd be him. unfortunately, i havent seen AKVR, so this is just regular arkham knight

yandere!self aware!arkham!riddler x gn!reader

-edwards the most intelligent man in gotham, of course he noticed that his life was a game. and over time, he learned how to manipulate the game around him and "see" into the outside world

-the disc hes on was sold by the original owner, and now gets passed from person to person from secondhand game shops. the disc is always returned because somethings wrong with it. nobody puts two and two together and realizes they only start having game issues when they look up answers to the riddles

-then you buy the disc. edward is mildly interested in you, as he is with everyone who buys his game, but he assumes it wont last when you struggle with his riddles. whatever, at least he can enjoy messing around with your game

-but then you dont look anything up. he watches you intently, he even hacks onto your phone to check if youve been searching answers, and youre all clear. sure, you struggle at some of his puzzles (who doesnt?), but you never cave and look up how to solve it, no matter how long it takes you

-now that hes poking around on your phone, he sees that youre kind of a shut in. you dont have many contacts, and the one social media you have is tumblr. but it looks like you fixate on him a lot, almost to an unhealthy degree. its flattering- of course someone as excellent as him deserves sycophants! and he especially deserves one as devoted as you! youre smart, and determined, and oh lord, hes in love

-you have things to do during the day, you cant spend all your time with him on the disc, so he listens in on you from your phone. theres not much to do when youre not playing the game, so its his favorite way to pass the time. when you get home and start playing, he tries to interest you in his sidequest over everything else. he even keeps an eye on you as you sleep! he has to make sure youre safe, after all

-when youre not playing, he focuses on finding a way out to you (or bringing you in to him). he needs to be able to hold you, to keep you safe himself, and if he has to drag you kicking and screaming into the game with him, he will. not that he really knows how to do that, but he'll figure out something

-on your end, you dont notice anything at first. maybe his lines when you play are a little... flirtier? but other than that, the game is fun. you feel particularly drawn to the riddler sidequest, hes your favorite character after all. then, you notice that his lines are strangely specified to you, making references to your interests and personal life. maybe its just reading your console? yeah, a fun little meta thing!

-but then it gets concerning. he calls you by name. not the name on your console, your real name. hes talking like he knows you as a person. hes saying how much he needs you, how much he adores your dedication to his riddles, your dedication to him. you decide this is too weird, you have to return the game. so you go to take it out, and-

-you wake up in what looks like the abandoned orphanage from arkham knight. you try to move, but you feel arms squeeze you tight

-"there you are, my dear player. we're going to have so much fun together"

[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 :)

[masteroffearshusband49020]

Some Scarecrows react to anxious reader being worried about him and caring towards him:

BTAS Scarecrow:

- You're both outside Arkham Asylum, the clients are having a sort of recess outside.

- He silently enjoys the anxious look on your face at first as you watch him

- Then you speak. Something along the lines of "Aren't you cold without a coat? Do you wanna take mine?"

- He stares at you, trying to read into you more deeply. He only sees genuine worry in your expression.

- "I-I'm fine, thank you..." He replies, unsure what to make of this, of you.

- Similar instances keep happening between you two. He grows to like you. You become one of the few people he swears to protect.

TNBA:

- He too takes joy in your anxiety at first

- "You look tired, did you sleep enough last night?" You ask.

- He studies you. He only sees genuine concern, but for him? It can't be. There must be something you want from him. Why would you just be nice to him like that?

- "Very funny." He sarcastically lets out.

- "I'm serious." You insist. "Is there anything I could ask the staff to provide for you to help?" You ask.

- His expression twists into confusion.

- He hesitantly tells you how you can help him, but he doesn't fully trust you yet.

- He spends a lot of his time at the asylum studying you, trying to figure you out. You're an odd case after all. He's in denial that you're just nice for the longest time before finally just accepting it.

- He doesn't show it much, but he starts to care for you too. The only way he really does show it is by not giving you bad attitude anymore and protecting you from any potential threats.

Arkham Knight:

- Again, he takes a liking to your concerned and worried expression, even though the pain in his leg is particularly unbearable in this moment.

- "Is there anything I can do? To help alleviate the pain? Or at least make it easier for you? Would you like a painkiller?" You ask.

- At first, he's angry. He assumes you think of him as weak. He ignores you, then nearly falls, tripping on his own foot.

- You make a quick move to try and catch him, but he manages by himself.

- He stares daggers at you until he sees you were genuinely worried and you tried to catch him. His expression lightly softens into a look of curiosity.

- "Are you ok?" You ask.

- "I'm fine, thank you." He brushes you off and walks away.

- but that's not the end of it. You're on his mind. Why would you care for him? He hadn't done anything kind to you before.

- He notices that you have a habit of doing this with him and other clients too. He teases you by intentionally putting himself in dangerous situations to see you worry. He finds it very amusing, and interesting. He also totally uses it to manipulate you.

- He also secretly appreciates that someone actually cares for him deep down, although he'll never admit it.

- He gets angry when he realizes he's starting to care for you too. He can't do that, he's the Scarecrow, any emotional attachment could weaken him, or distract him.

- He tries to distance himself, but you worry when he does and he starts to dislike seeing you hurt that he doesn't hang around you as much.

- Annoyed, he gives in and soothes you of your hurt and explains the situation to you. He tells you that if you want him to keep being friendly with you, you need to be secretive of the emotional attachment you both have for each other. He can't afford to have anyone else know about his potential weakness, you.

[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.

[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.

[scaryscarecrows]

Needles and Stitches

Mark goes from tired to pissed in about five seconds. That’s how long it takes him to turn on the light to his office and clock the Arkham Knight sitting awkwardly in the Sucker Chair. He was supposed to be in Arkham City until next Wednesday.

“The fuck did you do.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got an eight-inch laceration right between my damn shoulder blades and I can’t reach it. I already tried.”

“And you made it worse, I’m sure.” Good morning, sunshine, it’s gonna be one of those days! It must be bad, though, or already infected, or he wouldn’t be here. “Come on, lemme see what you did.”

“Helmet stays on,” the Knight says roughly. “That’s non-negotiable.”

Mark is willing to argue. He is the doctor, and this is his goddamn domain and that’s just the way it is. He’s not willing to argue right now, not with this guy. The Knight has yet to really hurt them, but he most certainly can, and there was one poor bastard that tried to pull the helmet off, last year. Was.

But he’s also not giving him the complete win. It’s the principle of the thing. So he just grunts, jerks his head towards surgery, and locks the door behind them.

His armor is pristine, so no clues there. Mark also has no fucking idea where to even begin getting that off, so he just makes an irritated gesture at the whole mess.

“Well?”

The boss fiddles with one of his many pocket knives for maybe thirty seconds more before reaching up and unlatching the chest plate. The armor under that is kevlar, like theirs, and it’s almost the same, barring the heavy plating across his shoulders. That comes off the same as the chest plate did, with hidden latches, and the rest of the suit unzips at the throat.

Whatever Mark was expecting, it wasn’t this. He’s seen scars like this very rarely, though he’s seen the fresh wounds a lot more, when he and Trent were out in Russia. Burns of all kinds, ranging from small cigarettes to deep ones from a hot poker. A latticework of knife scars on…honestly, everything. What looks like a crude surgical scar at the gut (self-surgery, maybe? Mark’s got a similar one himself), and…honestly, he can’t pin the odd, almost knot-like thing at the hollow of his throat. There’s a horrific slash going from rib to hip that would have been a near-disembowelment, and several of the ribs are just crooked enough that it’s clear they were broken and healed for shit. A short, jagged scar, also older, says that he took a knife through the shoulder at some point. Anything else is hidden under a white bandage wound awkwardly under one arm, over the other, and around his ribs.

These scars are old. The body that bears them is not. Twenties, maybe, if he had to guess. Jesus Christ, no wonder he’s…quite frankly, this fucked up.

“Bandage off, turn around,” he says shortly. “Lemme see what you’re bitchin’ about.”

The Knight’s back is exactly zero percent better. Long, deliberate knife wounds trace his shoulders, barely visible under what looks like, hand-to-God, whip marks. A whip with glass embedded in it, he thinks, judging by the odd pockmarks. But more importantly, right now, there is indeed an eight-inch gash sitting pretty between his shoulder blades, right in an absolutely dickish spot to reach for self-stitches. And yeah, there’s the beginnings of an infection, though he’s clearly tried to at least keep that at bay.

“You gotta give me something to work with.”

“Somebody got lucky with a machete.”

“And how did that happen?”

“I was distracted by the bastard with the cattle prod.”

That explains fuck-all.

“Hm. I’m guessing you’re up to date on your tetanus shots.”

“Yes.”

“It’s something.” The infection hasn’t really had a chance to set in; the gash has clearly been cleaned and had some ointment or something dabbed on it, at least. “Could be worse,” he continues, politely ignoring what looks like the faint rubbing scars of a metal collar. “You didn’t let it get out of control, at least. It’s just a little red, no puss yet or anything super nasty. No trips into the sewer or anything I need to know about, right?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Good. All right, I’m gonna clean it up to my satisfaction, stitch it back together, and then you’re going to leave off your stupid ninja-shit for at least ten days. No gargoyles, no flips, no zilch or on God, I will open you back up and stuff that thing full of those little prickly things that grow out in the jungle, you hear me?”

“You’re welcome to try.” The Knight’s voice doesn’t have the usual humor to it, but he’s not pissed off, either. He’s just–nervous, is the best word Mark’s got for him. He’s nervous.

“I don’t try. I do. This’ll be easier if you just lie down and keep still. You got any allergies I should know about?”

“Artificial cherry,” comes the quiet mumble. Jesus Christ, he’s got a real comedian on his hands here.

“Then I’ll keep the grape lollipops aside just for you,” Mark snarks. “Now let’s get this thing closed up before some idiot falls off a car and breaks their arm. Again.”

THE END

[drvoos]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

ft jason todd

she/her pronouns used

i love you, i’m waiting for you

She could vividly remember the day Jason Todd died just entering his teenage years. Bruce had come to her — his large hand resting on her shoulder. The weight from his grip would forever linger. He was her best friend. Her protector, her robin. How he could be there one second, being the sun that kept her from the darkness, and the next, six feet under.

His funeral was even more bleak. The gray smog filled Gotham sky threatened rain. Appropriate for the mood. Dick stood by her the entire time, offering his comfort in the way of pulling her into his side to offer up a shoulder to cry on. As they lowered the casket into Jason’s final resting place, thick drops plopped onto her head, indicating it was time.

but my best enemy is you

Bruce Wayne approached Batgirl on the busy bridge in front of Ace Chemicals. GCPD cars lined the edges, yet they truly weren’t of any use.

“Any word from inside?” His gruff voice questioned, posting up next to Batgirl in front of Gordon.

“Nothing,” Gordon starts, gesturing with his head for the two bats to walk with him. “We think there’s a skeleton crew left in there but they’re not responding and the facilities locked down.”

“If they’re still alive we’ll find them.”

Batgirl hummed, leaving the boys in order to further examine the front of the building.

“They should be able to tell us what Scarecrows up to..”

Batman’s words were cut short as the loud hum of a helicopter exploded in the ears. The red bird raised above the ledge of the bridge, its bright light shining right onto the Bats. She narrowed her eyes. Inside, a man dressed similar to them, only more red and mechanical. While Batgirls suit was new technology, nothing on her body compared to his.

The helicopter glided to its right, before blasting the very tip of the bridge, ensuring that no one would get inside.

The Bats showed no fear, cautiously approaching while everyone else ran to cover. The light was blinding, bathing them both. For a moment she swore he was staring directly at her. He was shaking his head, as if he was fighting something. Then, he left.

flee from me, the worst is you and i

Batman had parted from her awhile ago. Too many workers that needed to be saved for them to constantly stick with eachother.

“Can I get some help here?” The worker begged sheepishly, a little bit nerved by the lurking shadow in the corner. Batgirl quickly opened the door, grimacing as she saw how the man was tied up.

“Thank god your he-,” The glass roof shattered on top of them, militia sliding down on ropes. Her eyes narrowed. When all of the men had spread into position, the guy from the helicopter slowly descended as well. Batgirl could only hope this was their last interaction. His heavy combat boots slammed against the floor, a humorous chuckle distorted by his mask.

“Keep your guns trained on her…If she even looks like she’s planning to leave that room, open fire.” He approached her as if he was a predator stalking his prey, tilting his head and eyeing her up and down. His armored hand pressed against the glass in front of her.

“…See you’ve taken the old man’s offer. Became his weapon.” Her breathing was shaky, biting her lip and nostrils flaring. Who the hell was this guy?

“Who are you.” She demanded, stepping closer to the glass. Her whitened eyes narrowing further.

The Arkham Knight gave one more distorted chuckle before retreating his hand off of the barrier.

“You’ll see soon enough.” With that, him and his men disappeared back into the night.

but if you keep searching for my voice

Batgirl held her breath as she clutched onto the ceiling, watching as militia and goons alike filled the room she was in. The Arkham Knight rushed in behind them, clearly angered at her disappearance.

“Raise the defense shield. Keep all access points covered.”

Whoever this guy was, he clearly wanted her for something. While the Arkham Knight was talking to someone through his coms, Batgirl was plotting. Scheming. There was about 14 militia in the room, however she didn’t know how many were armed. Deciding to take a risk, Batgirl pounced like a cat.

She dropped from the sky, crushing someone with her armored boots. She continued to pick the men nearest to her off. She was a blur of black, going on pure adrenaline. Finally, Batgirl turned her sights on the Knight. He easily dodged her punch my harshly grabbing her arm, however that gave her the perfect opportunity to clutch his neck. Only, he did the same. They were tangled together.

“Who…are you.”

She choked out as he applied more pressure onto her throat. He let out a small laugh.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

With all of his might he pushed her off of him before disappearing in a bank of smoke.

forget me, the worst is you and i

Batgirl rushed in, clutching the gushing wound on her side that had been inflicted by one of the many bombs sent at her. Her mask had been practically torn apart, leaving only half on her face. She keeled over while trying to hold the doorframe for support. In front of her was Jason. Her Jason. His mask was in a similar state as hers, glitching and cracked due to the heavy blows that had rained down upon him. Bruce was on top of her Jason with his fist drawn back. Batgirl could only imagine what her partner was about to do.

“Bruce.” She whimpered, her voice nothing but a whisper. She was sure her vocal cords were damaged a bit. The two boys turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden entrance. When her and Jason made eye contact the entire world slowed to a halt. The entire time…this entire chase…it was him. Bruce slowly lifted himself off of his former Robin, backing away to allow Jason some room.

“You did this to me…” He growled, reaching into his belt.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce’s voice was full of worry and truth. Batgirl knew he meant every word. Jason was quick to draw his gun, pointing it directly in Batman’s face. Batgirl hobbled a few feet closer, still hunched over.

“You left me to rot in that abandoned wing of Arkham…for over a year! With him!”

Bruce quickly held out his hand towards Jason.

“It’s not too late. We can fix this,” He gestured towards the crippled Batgirl behind him. “Together.”

For a while, Jason said nothing, only lowering his gun and his head. Bruce turned away, contacting Alfred to tell him the sad yet good news. He found Jason.

With the energy she had left, Batgirl limped over to where Jason laid on his side defeatedly. When he lifted his head, his mind was made up.

“My god…is he alright?” Alfred worried through the com.

“No. No he’s not.”

However when Bruce turned around, the two were gone.

This took surprisingly longer than I thought it would lol! It’s my first fic, so please mind any errors I’ve made. I’m still getting used to Tumblrs format (Wattpad girl). I tried not to use any names such as y/n or an oc name because personally I cannot stand fics that have that. I’m also in love with this song from Arcane and I thought it would fit perfectly. Anyways, thank you for reading! :)