#getting to arkham knight at last is Something

[fawnindawn]

Death Has No Right To You (arkham knight!jason todd x reader)

Summary: You're severely injured, but he's not letting you go. Even if you're not his to lose anymore. (a/n: angstcomfort? not even death can try to drag you away from him. tw: mentions of blood/near death)

Jason has not felt such fear since his time in the warehouse, where the very thought of metal scraping concrete conjures phantom stings in his scars, and a gutting-drop in his heart. After him- after everything he's been through, he was close to believing nothing could ever be worse than the past he buried deep down, which he stifled with hatred-filled revenge.

Shaking fingers cradling your limp head, he can't believe he was ever foolish enough to think life had enough of him to let its dreaded claws loose. He had thought he was done with attachment to his past, to his mantle, to Bruce, to you.

"Please, don't take her away from me." He pleads to no one, because no one ever listens to him when he begs. Not when he was caged in that warehouse, not when he pleaded to be found, not when he pleaded to die.

He knows the scent of death like the back of his hand, coated on his hands when he kills, coated in the haunted look that stares back at him in the mirror. You- you're covered in the scent of it.

You're barely holding on, your grip on his neck falling looser only for him to snap at you to wake up whenever your eyelids shut, forcing you out of your stupor. Stay, stay, stay- his voice commands you.

When he reaches the base, he's barking orders and there's a flurry of movement as his militia move aside for him, all eyes on the limp body in his arms. "Get a fucking doctor- or I will make sure everyone in this room pays." His modulator renders his tone cold, but he can hear his desperation echoed back to him. Thankfully, no one notices and someone finally listens and makes a move.

He places you down on a flat surface, heart dropping when he can finally see how much blood you've lost under the fluorescent light. He grips your hand that reaches out for comfort. "You're going to make it." He mutters to himself, because he simply refuses anything other than your survival. "Because you're not someone who gives up. You're a fighter, you can fight this. I won't let you go under, you understand?"

You wince and heave with every breath, but there's confusion etched into your expression when you listen to his words. You try to find familiarity through his altered voice, something of memory to his armour, but you find none.

"Was I someone- were you someone to me?" You finally dared to ask.

There is no sound from his modulator, no flicker in those illuminating eyes, but somehow, you can sense the tension in his shoulders, the way his breath stops at your question.

"No." He answers. Not anymore.

The silence stretches, and footsteps are nearing.

"Then." You struggle through your next words, vision blurred till he leans in. "If I don't make it," You notice his fingers tighten around yours. "Will you bury me near Jason Todd's grave?"

The Arkham Knight is a powerful figure, with connections and a motive no one understands. Yet, if he was willing to put all this effort to save you, maybe he would listen to your final request.

"I promised him." Tears filled your eyes. "I'd always be by his side. I failed to before- Promise me, that you'll let me."

Jason stares at you, and he fights back the urge to scream. Don't you know, that by finding your Jason, you'll be leaving him? He had thought that whoever he became the day he escaped Joker's grasp couldn't possibly be something you could love, so he had left you alone. Or at least, he had convinced himself that it was the right decision. Now, even on your deathbed, your last words are of him, for him. Wrongs after wrongs after wrongs, it seems to be all he's capable of. But not this time.

He's not letting you go.

"I promise."

When you wake, you feel a strong hand covering yours. Your head pounds, and you try to recall what happened. A gunfight, a crossfire, a stranger, a promise-

The Arkham Knight. He saved you, didn't he?

You turn your head to see who was sitting beside the bed, expecting a robotic suit and glowing eyes, only to meet pale blue. Your heart recognises the colour before your mind does, seizing uncontrollably as if possessed.

"Am I dead?" You ask, laughing humourlessly. "Is that why you're here, Jay?"

He gives you a sad smile. Your Jason smiles at you. It's solemn and heartbreakingly haunting, unlike anything you've dreamt of since his death.

His hand moves to rest over your pulse, which beats over his calloused thumb. Life. Then, you're.. alive? You notice then, how he's not really the Jason you remember. There's a deep scar engraved into the skin tissue of his cheek, a crookedness to his nose from a punch gone wrong, and how his eyes hold secrets you can't uncover.

He's not your Jason, but he still looks at you the same way.

"I told you I'd keep my promise." He finally answers. "And now it's your turn to keep yours."

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 8

"What has been happening in Gotham?" Bruce being a dumbass that's what.

Ch9 has more of The Grayson family interaction and I think I will follow the timeline of the comics for the death of guardians- that way there'll be more time for Nolan's A+ parenting.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 8 >>next

Gotham Heights has seen better days.

It’s been years since the rogues simply went mad, declaring war on specifically Bruce Wayne. It’s been years since Selina and Jason stopped talking to him, Catwoman did her best to avoid him while Red Hood seemed to revert to his Arkham Knight days, pure rage running through his veins.

Bruce doesn’t know what happened, what tipped all the rogues over the edge to deem Bruce Wayne, of all billionaires, enemy number one. He tried to look back and figure out what he did- if he said anything- as soon as he realized that they were teaming up and weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon but he found nothing beyond the media calling him a neglectful father to his youngest girl, which he found absurd. He loved Cassandra, went to every ballet show, and was so proud of her, so he didn’t bother to read what they were actually saying, deeming it as nothing but useless gossip. If only he glanced at the context…

Batman couldn’t keep up with the attacks, so everyone was out all year round, the man even having to ask Nightwing for help more than once or ten times. He didn’t like this. His kids still had school, and Damian still had so much to learn- fighting criminals nightly wasn’t helping set the no-killing rule into the boy and the sleepless nights weren’t helping his mood at school.

The man was getting tired. But the rogues did seem to take a day off every month, on the thirteenth. The first two months he didn’t recognize the pattern but by the third, he thought they were planning something big, and when the next day was just like the past two months his brain was racking with questions about the possibilities, fear running through his spine and making him so paranoid he could barely sleep.

It took him so long to find out where they all met on the thirteenth- it was embarrassing honestly, but he still did it. All rogues, separately mostly, would stop by flower shops, buying bouquets of lilacs and narcissi flowers. The next stop after the shop would be Gotham cemetery where each one of them would put a bouquet on a lady’s grave, a nobody, with no ties to them, the woman could barely keep a job as a waitress when she was alive. And the last stop would be Red Hood’s territory.

Batman knew that as soon as he and Robin stepped a toe on the territory, Jason would know, so while Bruce followed the main lead, Damien became the distraction. It took a while to find the rogues, and the image that was presented made him more confused than anything.

The rogues were in the alley between a hospital and an orphanage that opened about six or seven years ago, both walls of the buildings in the alley had big painted murals, both depicting Lady Gotham in the background while the foreground had soft, happy-looking people in different styles helping each other, “To a better community. To a better Gotham.” written at the bottom as a graffiti. He assumed the scribbles he couldn’t make out on the sides of the murals were the names of the people who drew them, though, a style predominated the others, it was safe to say that it was a collaboration.

Harley was making balloons for kids, mostly dogs, crowns, and swords as Grundy sat by her, holding the equipment and letting the kids climb him. Killer Croc and Bane seemed to be focused on bringing tables and chairs to set them down in an orderly fashion, as Two-Face and Riddler helped the older ladies carry the food. Penguin was busy talking to a nurse while his goons shared care packages to the patients and kids, all the while Ivy was reblooming the plants around the building. Mr. Freeze seemed stuck on ice cream making duties while also keeping the refreshments cold.

Batman had more questions than answers.

“This may be neutral ground, Bruce.” Jason’s voice behind him made Batman freeze before he slowly turned to face his son. “But you’re not welcome here.” His second oldest finished, his hands at his side, clenched tightly, itching to fight, to punch him.

“Since when is Red Hood territory neutral?” The older man couldn’t help but ask, but Jason didn’t answer him, instead telling him to leave once more. “Or I can just tell all the rogues down there who you really are. I’m sure they’ll be happy to kill two birds with one stone.”

Bruce frowned beneath his cowl as he felt Jason’s anger in his bones. They both worked hard to reconcile- but now the progress was back to zero once more. His inquiry about what happened between them both only seemed to anger the younger man even more, but Jason’s anger snuffed out as realization washed over him, laughter bubbling up instead.

Batman could only watch in confusion as Jason laughed at him. “You really don’t know, do you?” The younger man chuckled lowly, shaking his head as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Goddamn Bruce, I know you deem protecting Gotham more important than your kids, but this is low even for you.”

“You’ve been missing a bird for almost six years, Batman. If you can’t connect the dots, then maybe it was the right decision to leave.” Jason turned his back to Bruce, walking away from the man. “I made mistakes. Like you. But when I came back, I rectified them, I don’t think you’ll be given the chance.”

“Leave. We’re being peaceful, fulfilling a promise we made to a kid. We can fight tomorrow.” Were his last words as he jumped down from the building, making his way to the little party as well while Batman’s eyes lingered on his back. Jason was just as exhausted as Bruce.

“You told him too much, kitten.” Selina purred from inside the orphanage, the kids inside too busy fawning over the fluffy cats she brought to pay attention to them. She was met with the blank mask of Red Hood. “And somehow, I’m sure it’ll still be a while until he figures it out.” Jason scoffed.

Batman sighed with defeat, calling Robin to the rendezvous point and telling the others to meet him in the Batcave, not giving them more of an explanation. He wasn’t missing anyone- he was sure. Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Cassandra, Duke, Damian, even Stephanie- he just saw them, he just heard them. The drive to the Batcave was silent, Bruce lost in his thoughts while Damian was frowning, pouting really. 

Bruce made sure to count heads once more when everyone was present as he told and showed everyone what he discovered. “We should attack while they aren’t expecting us. They’ll surely talk then.” Damian was quick to interject, completely overlooking that Todd said there was a missing person. “No way!” Duke closed the idea before anyone had a chance. “There are too many civilians that will get caught in the crossfire-”

Cassandra could only watch as her family argued and tried to come up with a solution, as they tried to find out who Jason was referring to. Her brows furrowed behind her mask. He couldn’t be talking about- no. Bruce sent her away like he mentioned that one time to Alfred. Her little sister is safe in London- Bruce surely remembers... Right?

A few states over, Joker is laughing while he falls from miles in the air, three figures looking down at the crazy clown. Like Batsy hasn’t tried this trick on him before, they’re not even as intimidating, wearing those silly costumes. But then the ground kept coming closer and closer, his gleeful expression turning into a shocked frown. “Oh boy-“ The Joker gulped.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji

A/n: Special thanks to @fightmebissh for putting the idea of murals in my head- I won't be able to let it go :))

Also- the flowers I specifically used for their meanings. Lilacs of shades of purple to reflect spirituality and a specific lilac color that is associated with one’s first love or the first time one feels love for someone, and Narcissi for rebirth and good fortune, awareness, and inner reflection.

I always feel like I'm forgetting something when I post these...

[yandere-wishes]

.ᐟ𖹭~ Ciao Amore ~𖹭.ᐟ

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Batfamily x CatFam!Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓎 ♡ ｡ ゜

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗

𓆩☾𓆪 Nightwing - Dick Grayson | بالشب - دیک گریسون

Dick kisses each candy heart before pushing it past your lips. His smile is saccharine, the lite of his voice pure sugar. His presence gives you cavities. You thought you'd run away from him, freed yourself from your nocturnal life. But here he is again pinning you to your couch as he gives you your valentine.

His sweetness sinks into you, pushing through your bones until you feel him rotting your marrow. Even the bonbons in your mouth taste of him, you swallow each one while looking into his perfect midsummer eyes. He pauses on the last candy, slips it into his tongue before kissing you, he guides the blue heart into your mouth along with every ounce of devotion his body holds. Be mine the candy reads.

Be mine

❀࿔ Red Hood - Jason Todd | نقاب سرخ - جیسون تاد

You are a narcotic laying heavy upon his tongue, plaguing his brain with your essence, your image glimmering within every vertiginous thought. Jason pulls you closer strong hands grasping at your bones. You can feel the frenetic beat of his reanimated heart, it almost seems to scream 'I love you'. He falls to the ground taking you with him, he won't leave you ever again, no matter what you must die with him. Your legs straddle his lap, forehead resting on his. He has full control of you, maneuvering your body how he deems fit. His lips trace the curve of your neck and shoulder.

There's a dreadful chill creeping up your spine, skin sizzling under every kiss, you can't move, can't breathe. When you open your eyes again he's still there, Jason is always there. Red shadow following your every move until he has you locked away between his arms. He's like poison flooding your veins, killing you slowly, softly, and dubbing every ache 'love'. Slowly his lips ghost over yours, locking too suddenly, you're drowning again.

All while Jason is high off you.

´ཀ` Arkham Knight - Jason Todd | سلحشور آرکام - جیسون تاد

You look so cute like this his precious little pet curled up on his bed. The Arkham Knight stalks forward his shadow rattling you from your light slumber. You whimper miserably pulling the covers closer to your bruised frame. Poor little kitty cat he thinks mesmerized by the sheer fright glistening in your eyes. "It's Valentine's Day you know" his synthesized voice bellows. He's sitting on the bed now, too close, iron-clad fingers patting your head, fingers lacing roughly through matted hair. "Since we're a couple now, I guess I got to get you something."

You hiss, pulling back, you really are a cat he realizes, a pretty little housecat who's strayed too far from home. The switchblade slides from his wrist, he taps it lovingly against your lips. He doesn't fail to notice your exhausted sigh as he carves a heart intercepting your collarbone. His thumb pinches your cheek, all boyish hijinks and remnants of puppy dog love. This is correct he thinks finally you are his, all his.

Mine Mine Mine

｡♦｡ Red Robin - Tim Drake | رابین قرمز- تیم دریک

There are matrices inside your eyes, celestial stars dancing between each blink. Tim watches as you click on his email, pretty face illuminated by the computer screen. ILOVEYOU the email reads, blue bold strokes dulling under your curser, you make the reckless mistake of clicking, of forgetting how potent three simple words can be. Your screens flicker, bleeding Red Robin red, candied words flood the screen. I Love You.

Tim creeps into your room, heart on his sleeve beating, he swears he's not a stalker or a creepy fan. He's just a little lovesick, just a little bit too obsessed. How could he not be? You're an ethereal equation he's spent countless nights studying from behind a screen, something so distant, empyrean, like trying to pry out secrets from lost galaxies.

He pushes the heart-shaped bag forward, practically melting it into your hands, watching eagerly as you pull the zipper to open his gift. Laying atop the cacophony of chocolates and cosmetics is a simple slip of paper scribbled in red.

I Love You

ꨄ︎ Robin - Damian Wayne| سینه‌سرخ - دامیان وین

There's an engraving in his heart that bares your name, rugged laceration that ever only stops to bleed when your claws collide with his sword. Damian harbors his legacy between his bones, feeding it, letting the expectations fester until they crack and reshape his body. But he needs you to do it, needs you close by when he finally inherits his bearings.

But sometimes, sometimes when nobody but the moon is around to witness his exhaustion. He haunts you down for the sole purpose of being near you. To inhale the airy scent of your perfume and stare into those bewitching eyes. Tonight, he sprints from rooftop to rooftop trying to find

and when he sees you bathing beneath the pale moon's rays, Damian swears his heart stops. He clears his throat prideful even when he's all so desperate for a sliver of your attention. When you turn your head to face him ethereal eyes glimpse at him, he hurriedly presents you with a gift. A single dagger oriented with a little bow around the hilt. It's almost like presenting you with a part of his DNA, only problem is you can't tell if he's challenging you or proposing, both thoughts make you sick. Before you can speak he's disappeared into the night, heart rattling his ribs as his face grows painfully hot.

You Better Appreciate The Gift.

🦇 Batman - Bruce Wayne | بتمن - بروس وین

The moon is his witness, the best wingman in town. He thinks it's funny how in so many ways he's made every creature that roams through the twilight streets. The mayer once called the nightmares of Gotham 'his', 'Batman's' and Bruce could do nothing to stop the way his heart skipped an anguished beat. Because they were his, his rogues, his gallery, and someone how, by some mistake somewhere, he had turned you into one of them. His little villain, his little kitten, prowling through the night.

There's retribution in the way he kisses you, his tongue tastes of cathartic desperation as it rolls between your lips. His grip on your forearms is so tight you feel your arms go numb. He's let you slip through his fingers so many times under the moon's watchful gaze, he refuses to let it happen again. This time he has you, this time he won't repeat the same mistakes. You are his.

His Forever

₊⁺₊☠︎︎₊⁺₊ The Batman Who Laughs - Bruce Wayne | بتمن که می خندد - بروس وین

You snort the blood from your nose trying to crack the broken thing back into place, the black menace only laughs, his long tongue rolling out to lick at the crimson substance. "You're so pretty when you bleed" he insists as his lips marr your flesh, teeth abrading at the veins hunting for more blood. You try to push him away but he only grips you tighter talons sinking into your skin, your blood under his nails.

The monster kisses you, splitting your lip in the process, iron floods your mouth before he slams you onto the ground. You look so seraphic bleeding beneath him, feline eyes darkened over with a vicious glare. But it only serves to make him laugh, he dedicates each giggle to you, his perfect little pet. You turn and bite his wrist, but the monster only laughs harder. He leans down again spiked mask puncturing your eyebrows, dragging over your eyes slicing the optic, and traversing the valley of your cheek. You scream not from the scorching pain but from this manic comedy, you've been doomed to.

Happy Valentine's Day

༻¨*:· Terry McGinnis - Batman | تری مک گینس - باتمن

Terry's kisses are heavy monstrous things. Hungry and careful, sweet contradictions that leave little lovebites in their wake. You squirm against the brick wall grip tightening on the bag of stolen compartments, daring him to try and pry it away. But the caped crusader only seems focused on you.

Terry longs to see your face, you shatter that dreaded helmet and look into your eyes. He chews on your flesh, claws at your body anything to feel closer, anything to feel loved. He dreams of too many 'one days' of holding your hand and walking through the city, neon hearts bleeding overhead. But for now, he lays content in the dark, holding you and feeling the feverish pounding your your heart against his.

Please Just Love Me

[namelessgakusei]

EP 3.3 And pull the trigger

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread. Slightly canon divergent.

EP 3.2 Take aim (prev.)

EXTRA EP. ANDERS

EP. 4.1 Belief and Perception (cont.)

Synopsis: You made some far-fetched conclusions over not-so-circumstantial evidences. Dante's amulet got merged with the White Rabbit's. You get caught, again.

There's something you don't understand yet.

Why did the driver take the device that control your restraints? Just as when Arkham looked away. What does it have to do with checking the traffic? Or perhaps, that poor attempt of yours to appeal to him got through?

Not that you have the time to ponder more about it after you get thrown around the vehicle.

You winced at the impact. If it weren't for Dante shielding you with his body, you would've hit your head too hard on the wall, and with how tubes are protruding from them, it would've been nasty. I knew something was behind it.

When the smoke cleared, the vehicle turned out to be torn into two, giving way for your escape. Though by the looks of it, only Enzo will be able to go, as both you and Dante are still bound to the wall, and the buckles got lost in the commotion. Lady Arkham must've noticed that, and left you in lieu of helping her comrades.

Their situation isn't any better, vehicles and debris littered the streets, and you swore you saw a body bleeding out underneath the rubble. What happened? Is it a terrorist attack? This doesn't look like a random one, with how you and Dante were in this place in this time and how the lady reacted upon seeing one of the assailants, this is planned. But from who? Why? You don't recall any of your targets nor clients that are ballsy enough to get back at you, especially with the new circumstances.

Another explosion made you close your eyes with how close it is, until a metal whizzing past the air caught your attention, it's Dante's sword! But where's my briefcase? You frowned.

"What is this? Are we getting rescued?!" Enzo's hopeful voice made both you and Dante turn to him with an unamused expression. "Can you think of anyone who'd want to rescue either one of us?"

"Leon would." You looked away with a grin, making your partner swivel to your direction with a scowl. The small time for banter was cut short by the lady's voice booming from across the road. "It's the Rabbit!"

From what little you can see amidst the dust and wreckage, she's behind a car, tending to another DARKCOM member. "Does anyone have eyes on it?! I have this area secure!" The White Rabbit? Just like what Enzo told you? But why would it target...

Dante.

At the lady's words, akin to being jinxed, a voice replies, saying that they doubt her claims. The source is a serpent-like demon that slithered around the area before revealing their torso inside the "mouth" of their body. Not a second later, two muscular creatures possessing exaggerated Arabian scimitars jumped from behind, joining the fray. The traffic enforcer who started the whole mess sauntered to them, his skin contorting to something blue.

That shapeshifting demon...!

Your eyes only glanced at the last addition to the group, a knight-like demon with wings, and focused on that familiar, one eyed demon. Something isn't right. It said before that Dante didn't knew who he really was, and then the lady came to claim that he's half demon, with the key to hell being his neck piece. What's this familiar feeling? It's like you heard something similar before.

Key to hell... Split into two... Twins... Unknown Father... Half-Demon... A demon who had sympathized with your species... A demon going AWOL after siding with humans...

The Sword of Sparda.

But, that doesn't answer on how it was able to shapeshift into Vergil? It wasn't that strong when you fought it before, so something as far as shifting to someone long dead is out of the question. You don't want to assume but with how things are turning out, you're fairly certain about one thing. Vergil's alive.

Are they... Sparda's sons? The thought alone made you glance up at the sputtering Dante, who was put on a spot by Enzo for his claim that the demon hunter will fight them off. Not that it matters, he was promptly ignored in favor of fighting off Lady Arkham.

Your conclusions were presumptuous at best and spot on at worst. Dante didn't seem to know yet, and you're not going to divulge potentially false information to him, especially if it includes his family. You need more evidence, something that'll truly cement this ridiculous theory. Thankfully, the White Rabbit came and delivered.

"A sincere "thank you", to you all and the government of the United States of the Earth Realm..." His voice, steady and proud, echoed above the veil of dust that surrounded everything. "—for picking up the rest of my amulet for me!" There he stood, atop a fallen vehicle, grinning from ear to ear, down at the DARKCOM members.

"God bless, America!"

He was shot on sight, bullets ranging from demon hunting ones to regular lead came zooming towards him, only to be deflected by his sword. It resulted in some unfortunate deaths that made everyone even more agitated. You struggled to watch from your place, with your view obstructed by multiple variables, but it was enough to see him get hit, revealing... human skin? And that brooch on his chest, it looked similar to what Dante has.

The fight ended in an instant, with only a single swing of the rabbit's sword, down went the special task force. He promptly disappeared inside one of the vehicles, and with how the demons are keeping Lady Arkham occupied, it's hard to grab a chance to escape. The thing you're worried about isn't your predicament, rather, the thought of the keys getting merged right this second. DARKCOM has Dante's amulet, and if you're correct about the Rabbit having the other one, well, Lady Arkham might just be right about the Key to Hell part. Though, why does the Rabbit have the other half? You don't reckon that he's Vergil, isn't he?

This day was more chaotic than last night's mercenary ambush, as another shockwave shook what remains of the vehicle you're at. Purple light engulfed everything for a moment, as a pillar shot to the sky, catching everyone's attention; well, except for Dante, who had twisted his legs far enough to put his handcuffs in front. The White Rabbit emerged from one of DARKCOM's vehicles, dragging your bloody driver out with him, and leaving the car exploding from the inside.

"See?! Told you there was a rabbit!" Enzo huffed from where you were hiding. Your eyes widened at what your driver was holding, however. Is that my briefcase?! What the— You grunted as you angled yourself towards him, forgetting that you're still bound, and only focused on getting your stuff back. Fortunately, before you could fall face first, both yours and Dante's restraints were deactivated. And with that, it's showtime.

Dante lunged for his sword, jumping to action to fight against the White Rabbit, while you ran towards the bleeding DARKCOM agent. You haven't even had contact with the handle of your briefcase when that soldier grabbed your wrist, muttering broken words, "--had no choice...! He's my brother... I... There's more... The warehouse...!"

Your eyes narrowed at the place. Warehouse? What does a ware—

Another explosion boomed through the streets, Dante just protected a school bus full of kids from a missile from the White Rabbit. The momentary distraction gave your driver more time to cling to you, desperately, pleading for you to stop his brother. Who?? The White Rabbit?! His brother??? You raised your head just in time to see the Rabbit flee, detonating the ground to make way for their escape. The rest of the demons followed shit, and a shadow flew from above, up at the winged demon's hand is... Enzo??

"Enzo!" You screamed, pulling away from the agent, as you met with Dante halfway. He grabbed a motorcycle and revved the engine, with you jumping at the back, as he drove past the barriers and onto the road below.

With him dodging the traffic, you got to work and built a pistol. As expected, the demons came to attack. You two narrowly dodged the chevalier demon when he lunged at the both of you, and the two muscular ones came on top of the cars right in front of you. "All right, now I'm pissed." Dante gritted his teeth and haphazardly moved the bike to maneuver past the attacks.

You jumped earlier than him when a car was thrown in your direction, giving you ample time to pull the trigger and shoot at the Rabbit's open vehicle, landing a shot at the snake demon. This made her jump and join the fight, shooting thorns at the motorcycle, rendering your speed nearly useless as you get sandwiched between the twin demons. Fortunately, Dante hit the brakes just as both fire and wind shot at the two of you, only for one of the demons to merge their swords together for an even bigger damage output and throw it at him. You snaked your arms around your partner as he caught and swung the blade, gaining control over the weapon and using it as a parry for the thorns shooting at the two of you, before lifting the motorcycle in air and landing on the demoness' face. The dual blade was flung at her, making the demon fall off with a shriek.

The second time you were in the air, you grabbed the chance to use the motorcycle as a leverage and landed atop the White Rabbit's vehicle, grabbing the side of the roof for stability. Enzo called for you inside the vehicle, voice laced with worry. "Don't move! We'll get you out of there alongside his amulet!" You screamed, straining to crane your head to see what's happening behind. Meanwhile, Dante slammed the twin demons with the bike, pushing them off the road, before getting back at chasing the Rabbit.

"Dante!" From your position, you saw the winged demon aiming at him, and with your warning, he narrowly dodged its sword. You can't make out their conversation as they fight, but was relieved enough to see that he at least got to keep that demon off the track as you enter a tunnel.

Seeing the chance, you threw your gun at him, which he caught with a grin and sped up. "That's it... Let it out... Let it out!" The Rabbit grins below you, making you turn to Dante, who's catching up. But, his eyes are—

The bike malfunctioned from how the wheels are littered with thorns, making him jump and aim at the White Rabbit, using your gun.

"Jackpot!"

But the shot didn't come, and Dante's neck grew in size before exploding, making him roll down the street like a ragdoll. The insurance! "Dante!" You jumped down the vehicle the moment it stopped and rushed to his side, assessing the damage while he gurgled from both shock and pain. You admit, it's quite nasty, with half his face blown off, and if it weren't for his healing abilities, he would've been dead by now. The sight makes your stomach churn, memories of your childhood resurfacing from his condition.

That's when you realize your grave mistake. Dante can heal, why did you go to him? Idiot! The White Rabbit's behind you! Just as you turned to smash your briefcase on whatever you can hit on him, the Rabbit was faster, hitting a pressure point on your neck and knocking you out.

Dante reaches out for you, weakly calling your name as the White Rabbit hums and walks over your unconscious body, grabbing his hair and tilting his head. "It seems like I still need to push you harder."

"Son of Sparda."

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie @flwerie @deathrye @that-dumb-bitch @sleepykittycx @sidewalkenforcer @devil-might-sob

[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.

[miks-delusional-blog]

HI HI HI if you take emoji anons I’d like to be 💚!!!!

can i request something with arkham knight jason x male or gender neutral reader?? it would be so so sick if you could do something where reader is arkham knight’s medic or something, something something “you have to learn to be more careful”

sorry if this is disrespectful and you dont have to do it, but thanks for listening and best of luck with your writing !!!

Personal Medic- AK!Jason Todd x GN! Reader

A/n

Hi! You may be 💚 anon! You’re actually my first anon request :)

Also it’s okay to request what you requested, it’s not offensive at all. I’ve never written male reader before so for this request I made it GN! Every x reader that I write is GN! Unless specified as fem! Though I do wonder if I’ve accidentally coded them as fem…

I hope you enjoy this one shot, I struggled quite a bit with the ending, and I did try out another type of storyline in my drafts but this felt like the best one? Lmao if you wanted to know what the other draft was about feel free to message 🫶

Enjoy! 💞

Disclaimer! I’m not a medic/know nothing about medicine so do not take any medical advice from this post please.

Tags: fluff, strangers/friends to lovers, there’s a smooch, w.c 1623

You have to learn to be more careful.” You grumble, sewing up another bullet wound chipping his shoulder.

This has become a nightly routine.

You’d come home after a 12 Hour shift, and maybe he’d already be waiting for you in your living room with a giant slash or a gaping wound. It’s a good thing you don’t have a white couch. Just a brown, very worn down, probably older than you, couch.

“What’s the point in all this armour if you still end up like this every night?” And like every night you complain while he sits quietly watching you at work, his hand kneading the armrest.

He doesn’t usually talk too much. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t like you, but he must tolerate you to always come back.

“Are you almost done?” He asks in a low voice, strained but almost soft. Not how he used to talk to you.

When he first fell on your fire escape he was covered in blood and pushed a gun at your chest, threatening to kill you if you even touched him. Now he was in your living room quiet as a mouse, no longer too shy to keep his helmet on as he let you work.

Of course you knew who he was. At this point, who in Gotham hadn’t heard of the Arkham Knight? You don’t know why you hadn’t called the police on him. You suppose it’s because he wasn’t so scary like this.

And the fact that you happened to keep finding hundred dollar bills on the coffee table after he’d left didn’t push you to really want to. Student debt and the cost of living crisis is a real bitch, some of us have to eat.

It’s probably a bad idea to have a man like this in your apartment.

You finish closing the wound, “almost good as new. Don’t tear this one. Let me see the one from last week.” you take off your gloves and set your tools down in a tray as he stripped off his chest plate.

You crouch in front of him analysing the wound. Gently pushing at his chest, “Sit up… relax a little.” Your finger brushes over the stitches. “Might have to keep them for a few more days, especially considering you tore them before. Would it kill you to have a few days rest? The more injuries you get, the harder it is for old wounds to heal.”

“I can barely take the time to sleep.” he finally looks into your eyes. Blue, almost gray. And you realise how close the two of you are, as if you weren’t just sticking a needle and suture in him.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“... Few hours.”

“Few hours? Should be at least six.” You roll your eyes with a slight playfulness. “Though with your injuries, maybe eight…You need to look after yourself better.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Well excuse me, you’re the one who keeps me up. Why do you keep coming back here? Hospitals are 24/7.” You move to sit more comfortably on the couch. Your knee bumps his for a moment as your head lulls to the side, pressing your cheek against the couch cushion. A small wave of tiredness hits.

“I think you know why I can’t just go to a hospital.” He huffs. “ And you get the job done.” He sits back, his breath hitching a little from soreness.

“With a lot of complaints.”

The corner of his lip twitches up, “Certainly with a lot of complaints.”

“This isn’t exactly the most sterile environment. And I know you could easily find someone to do this more efficiently, and not in their pajamas.”

“Suppose that’s true.”

“So why do you keep coming back?”

“Why do you keep treating me?” He turns to you.

“I can’t exactly say no when you’re bleeding out on my floor.”

“But you’ve never called the police on me.”

“...yeah…so?” You get a little embarrassed.

He smiles, it’s almost wicked.

“You’re good at bribing me.” you huff softly, “I’m in debt, I was living paycheck to paycheck. Now I can buy triple-ply toilet paper and buy a sweet treat once a week without breaking the bank.”

“What’s your ‘sweet treat’ this week?”

“... It’s stupid.”

He raises a brow. “Just tell me.”

You cross your arms, and shy away. “...Lego.”

“Lego? How old are you five?” he teases.

“Well five year olds shouldn’t play with Lego cause it’s a choking hazard. And I told you it was dumb.” You feel the heat rise to your face.

“So…That’s it?” he raises a brow.

“What do you mean ‘so that’s it?’”

“I don’t know… thought you’d get yourself something nicer.”

“Those things are nice. It improves my quality of life.”

“Lego and Triple-ply is improving your life?“

“My ass appreciates it. The tripe-ply, not the Lego.”

He chuckles. A real laugh. It’s the first time you’ve heard it and it almost makes you freeze.

It’s deeper than you thought it might sound. Though you’ve never really thought about what his laugh might sound like. But seeing him smile, a genuine amused smile… your chest feels warm.

After a beat, you sit up. “You never said why you keep coming back here. Like why you really come here.”

He take a moment to think of an answer. “I don’t really know… maybe because I know I shouldn’t… and I know you’ll never turn me away.” He almost sounds ashamed, no, guilty.

It catches you off guard. To think a man like the Arkham Knight can feel guilty. Especially after watching the news recently. But, the more you think about it, he was quite considerate of you.

He’d always try to help clean up after you’d treat him, which you’d have to push him back to the couch if he had a particularly gnarly wound. He’s never forgotten to give you money after seeing you. Always enough to replace the medical supplies used plus at least a hundred dollars.

“So… what I’m hearing is that you like my company?”

“Yeah.” He can’t seem to look at you.

“You know… I’d rather see you without so many injuries.” You say quietly.

“But then I wouldn’t-“ he pauses before looking up at you. Those eyes. You see he tenses a little before trying to relax. “I wouldn’t be able to see you… if I wasn’t injured.”

His admission makes you soften. The Arkham Knight wasn’t one to be vulnerable with you, or anyone you figure. Even though you’ve seen him without the helmet a hundred times, he’s always worn an emotional mask, and he’s never told you his name. A sarcastic nonchalant barrier, which you weren’t sure was to protect you or him.

You take a breath. “You can come here when you’re not injured too.”

“…Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“I mean, why would you want me here? I’m not exactly good company.”

“You’re alright.”

“Just ‘alright’?” He feigns offense, but the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“I like your company.”

“Not just the Lego and the triple-ply?” He’s teasing you.

“I like those things, but… I think I’d be okay without them…” Your gaze wanders to the window. “Though, if you were to just never come back again… maybe I wouldn’t be okay with that.” You sigh, reflecting. “You’ve been coming around here for a while now… a year in a month. I think I’d be… quite sad if you decided to never come back. But I’d understand. I’m not the best medic out there. Sometimes I struggle with treating you… and I worry that what if there’s an injury too bad that I can’t treat here in my apartment? I really wish you’d be more careful, that I didn’t have to treat a wound every time you came by.”

You take a breath you’d hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “I’d hate it if… you died here… or if you died at all. I find myself watching the news more, so I know you’re okay. You probably think it’s stupid… some rando-person you barely know always so worried about you…”

Sometimes you say things you don’t mean to admit. But he’s always been a good listener.

It’s quiet, other than the hum of your fridge and cars passing by your apartment. Now you’ve done it, haven’t you? Said too much. Weirded him out. Annoyed him. Been too—

“You’re not some random person to me.” He places a hand on your knee.

You look back at him. Even he seems a little surprised by his gesture, but he decides to commit, scooting closer to you.

“I like your company too… I like a lot about you.” His eyes almost avert before he catches himself, staring deeply into your eyes.

Maybe his eyes are a little more blue than grey.

“I’d… never come here with something you couldn’t fix…I wouldn’t do that to you. And I don’t plan on dying here or anywhere else so you don’t gotta worry about that.”

You nod, falling silent.

He’s so close.

Your eyes lower to his lips before averting away. There’s no way you just thought about kissing him. That would be insane, right? But before you can even be embarrassed, he cups your jaw, turning your face to him and kisses you.

You freeze, not fully processing what’s happening. When you stiffen, it scares him and he pulls away.

He lets go of you in a panic, “Sorry- I thought-“

You stop him, taking his wrist, “Don’t- don’t stop…please.” You lean in close again.

Jason cups your jaw again before pressing his lips against yours. And it makes you think, maybe being his personal medic wasn’t so bad.

[totally-lyrical]

So...eh...favorite bat-fam HCs?

oh you will regret this.

man i could go ON, already did in another post, so here im gonna talk about little quirks i think the batfam have because i have a problem smile

tim geniunely hallucinates sometimes but thats not because of lack of sleep thats just because hes tim. like theres nothing WRONG with him hes just genuinely Haunted.

jason also hallucinates but thats because of The Pit. he sees the hat man every wednesday

dick also also hallucinates but we been knew that. bro sees dead people

duke is a chaos god. he plays pranks on the others ALL the fucking time and they are all Sick Of It. best part, because of his powers, they never damage anything in the manor so he never gets in trouble.

bruce knows tiktok therapyspeak and when hes annoyed with one of his kids he uses it relentlessly and it is SO annoying. bossman PLEASE go to regular therapy your stupid words are MISERABLE.

steph DOES go to regular therapy. shes working on convincing tim to as well.

tim is the most similar to bruce by far. hes a genius, a socialite, slips between CEO Tim Drake-Wayne, Timothy Drake son of Janet Drake, and Red Robin effortlessly. the scary thing? hes almost smarter than even batman, and it shows. biggest difference is that he is willing to set his personal code aside when shit hits the fan. if he had to choose between killing someone and letting someone he loves die? bestie he knows all the major arteries and he will hit ALL OF THEM.

side note if tim ever gets bored someone BETTER engage him in something or else. mans WILL orchestrate an arkham breakout just to have something to do.

jason and the sirens get margaritas together every monday. sometimes selina brings one of her kittens. sometimes damian joins them, if hes on a school break.

duke is fairly well-known among the meta population as signal, since hes a meta himself and a loud and proud advocate for meta rights. hes also some variety of queer but, quote, "honestly man i dont have time to give a shit right now"

dick speaks all the core circus languages, plus english, mandarin, and arabic. they all speak mandarin and arabic actually but dick is the best with languages.

babs is a tumblr girlie and she went to dashcon. that is all.

cass really likes playing hollow knight because shes highkey kinda shit at it. shes the perfect assassin, the perfect bat, the perfect girl. she likes having something she sucks at.

damian likes watching cass play hollow knight because he likes the bugs. myla is his favorite.

steph Knows And Will Talk About fnaf. shes seen allllll of matpat's videos, shes played every game, shes read every novel, shes cosplayed vanessa.

steph is also responsible for getting tim into the scp fandom. everyone is mad at her for this.

tim's Type is Men Who Can Kill Him, and Women Who Would.

coincidentally, this is also jason's Type. and bruce's. and dick's. and tbh? duke's too.

every core bat has had some kind of fling with a super. b and clark have their weird situationship, tim and kon were a thing for a bit, jason and bizarro have kissed each other before, kara has kissed All The Girls, lois isnt a super and dick hasnt kissed a super yet, and damian and jon are one valentine's day away from kissing.

also, bruce and harvey dent? lowkey doomed yaoi when they were in school.

harley went to clown college after she and joker broke up. shes a Certified Clown now, and shes a BETTER one.

i touched on this on the last post but selina and talia are kissing. i dont make the rules but i DO live by them. 

dick has nicknames for everyone in the family. of course we have "b" and "little wing", but for tim he has "baby bird", cass is "bitty bat", damian is "baby bat", steph is "blondebin", and duke is "nightlight". the others also often adopt some of these.

side note: tim is my favorite. can you tell tim is my favorite? because tim is my favorite.

i saw a post where duke's powers let him keep up with cass when they spar and i love it. duke is cass' favorite to spar with because his reaction times rival her own, and duke loves sparring with her because she actively encourages him to use his powers. the rest of the batfam are scared of them both.

popular headcanon that i love is cass and tim look near-identical. they play this for jokes all the time, cass going to galas in tim's place sometimes and tim going nonverbal just to fuck with people. it annoys their family to no end.

tim is still a stalker and i will die on this hill. he still follows people he likes, he still photographs family when they're out on patrol, he still has everyone's schedules memorized. the rest of them find this both creepy and endearing.

duke and damian dont really talk to each other at school, but when duke needs help with homework or something he will always seek him out. damian often asks duke for feedback on his artwork, since he knows duke sees color differently and will always give an honest answer. his answers are most often something like "I really like the lense flare, but the colors of the buildings are a little too saturated. maybe try diluting them with a gray?" and damian always takes his feedback to heart.

damian actually rather looks up to tim. he's a detective nearly as good- if not better- than his own father, who his grandfather treats with respect as an equal, and who manages to stay cool and collected under pressure.

damian is also, however, Bad At Feelings. just like his father in that regard.

jason and tim have to sort of a little bit hate each other. like they're brothers and they love each other and will always look out for each other, but like. cain instinct to the max. when they spar it just looks like they're fighting to the death.

im cutting it here but i have more thoughts. sorry it took so long i suck and having a brain

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (arkhamverse)

—

Jason w/ an S/O who has locs (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

SFW, 18+, minors dni, some smut, the reader-insert’s hair is long - some Caribbean-American!Reader as well

Pic source — Batman: Arkham Knight video game & Batman: Arkham Knight - Red Hood Story Pack DLC

Jason first sees you when you're coming out of the corner store, and he might be in a rush, but he remembers your hair: long and full with little naturally formed curls at some of the ends from when he’d knocked into you a little as you were going in and him out.

You’d sucked your teeth and cussed at him a little under your breath, but ultimately didn’t kick up much fuss after his low grunt of an apology.

He’d taken note of the accent, and the voice accompanying it, that had rolled off your tongue when you’d cussed at him though. Which he capitalized on the next time he was in your area of the Alley, recognizing you by your voice enough to strike up a conversation with you even though he’s in the middle of bulldozing through what’s left of the stubborn stranglers of Black Mask’s old operation.

Jason probably shouldn’t be hitting on you, but he doesn’t care and you don’t know any better. He is embarrassingly rusty at regular (non vigilante) socialization and too blunt at times. He’s pretty though, and with his scar relatively covered by the shadows cast by the big hood he slips back over his head part way through your conversation after you start fully watching him, and a little concealer, you don’t question the trouble he might get up to either. He’s able to secure a promise to meet up for coffee after giving you the number of his least incriminating burner like he’s a real boy or something too.

Some of the members of his militia (before they disbanded) that he was closer to had tried urging him to form some kind of life outside of ‘work’, so he figures he’ll at least try something casual with you now.

Eventually he’s been seeing you for long enough that he knows how much he finds your untouched hair and new growth adorable and knows about all the hangups you have with people automatically assuming your hair is dirty when you don’t have a fresh re-twist.

He likes to plant his hands in your hair and scratch at your scalp whenever you’re just chilling when you’ve got new growth best. Your roots are soft like that and he likes maneuvering around the bundles where each of your locs are sectioned off. Plus, how you shiver and press into his touch or bare your neck for him like there isn’t a knife in the sleeve of his motorcycle jacket that could be in his hand in seconds and groan happily is more therapeutic than he’d ever thought something so small could be.

After one long day of your stilted responses Jason comes up to your flat expecting to find you asleep during the last two hours left in the afternoon. What he finds instead is the aftermath of you having worked your ass off that Saturday and you using the last of the sun's rays to your advantage to dry your thick head of hair so your head doesn’t end up smelling like a wet mop at the end of the day.

You’re clearly a little tired when you greet him and Jason is a little shocked at just how much effort you put into your locs and their maintenance.

He’s seen you get ready most other days and do little more than oil your scalp, moisturize your roots, and rub the remaining oil on your palms over the actual length of your locked up hair to tame some of your locs’ fuzziness. The level of work you put into bigger more comprehensive wash days is definitely unexpected for him based on that.

It’s after that that he just asks if he can accompany you when he isn’t busy on your wash days so he isn’t being deprived of you for ‘no good reason’. It’s not too long after that when he asks if he can help you out, especially once he sees you getting ready to strip down for a shower.

Something which is only possible if Jason is comfortable with you seeing the ‘J’ brand carved into his cheek at all.

Acts of service, especially, are what he’s best at when it comes to connecting with you, but he might have to cajole you to agree. Being with you, also, is a reprieve from his skull busting as the Red Hood. A reprieve from the steaming piles of shit he faces every night. He actively cherishes and looks forward to his time with you even if you can’t always tell due to how hard Jason’s grisled face is to read.

Rough as his hands typically are (especially with you sometimes, when you’re hooking up) a part of Jason craves the open excuse he has to be soft with you when dealing with your locs.

He likes the show of trust from you, too, even if he’d hardly even admit that you being so open with him makes his stomach hurt and makes him want to duck his head like a nervous school girl with a crush.

The feeling of you relaxing into him more when his hands are so close to your throat is so overwhelming that first time that he has to grit his teeth so he doesn’t tear up anymore than he already is. He’s not a killer around you, not a mistake or a pawn or one large walking bruise, he’s just Jason; sometimes that can feel like a curse but that day it feels like a gift he won’t ever be worthy of deserving.

Good thing for him that he’s a selfish vindictive bastard and doesn’t care about what the universe thinks. It’s taken enough from him as is, he isn’t looking to defer to it for anything so ridiculous as permission.

You’re nervous and embarrassed as hell about soaking your hair in apple cider vinegar around him for the first time. It’s not just that the smell of diluted vinegar mixture in and of itself makes your nose permanently scrunch until you’re done and has you sneezing for just as long either; you’re detoxing your hair and getting rid of any product and/or dirt buildup, the liquid mixture in the basin won’t exactly be clear afterwards.

Jason doesn’t even give a shit, though, and is mostly just worried about the position of your neck as you’re soaking your locs. He knows it’s only twenty or so minutes but he’s worried anyway, and don’t let you start cracking your neck afterwards either, you’ll send that man into a frenzy.

He gives you a massage afterwards, calloused hands inexperienced and far too touchy for a masseuse, but effective enough to have you moaning. His voice gets low and breathy when you give way to him like this, and Jason ends up nursing a chub for the better part of the rest of your afternoon together.

He’ll do your locs outside if you prefer (so long as there’s shade for him to hide in while you take in enough sun for you both), but mostly you just go outside to let the sun catch the top of your head while you do some work so you don’t have to sit up underneath a dryer or hold a dryer up to your head for way longer than you’d like.

If you are outside though (for whichever reason) Jason always humors the neighborhood kids walking around or playing, even more than you’d initially thought he would. Anyone older who strikes up a conversation with you, too, Jason will passingly interact with, even if he leaves most of the conversation up to you and only really engages with the other person whenever you cue him into the conversation in some way.

He doesn’t tend to look at people head on when they’re actually paying attention to him, and it’s less so from anything like shame and more so because he’s angling his head down so nobody sees the scar, the brand. The gawking pisses him off so he’d rather just avoid it entirely.

Jason is also just fine with being the one to hold your hair dryer up to your head and move your locks around so every bit gets dry the way you need them to.

You help him figure out the direction that your locs twist (either clockwise or counter clockwise) so he doesn’t mess up the strength of your roots by twisting against their natural direction and thinning them out; he follows through with all the rest of your locs immediately.

You can see him contemplating whether or not he’s supposed to take the rat-tail comb to your head in order to retwist your locs before you slip it from his fingers and apply oil to his hands yourself, demonstrate how to palm roll your locs yourself, and then letting him have at it.

Even at his big ass age Jason’s legitimately terrified he might mess up your hair (and of your tears and retribution thereafter) and so he’s paying extra attention, but he also keeps having to rub his palms dry on his pants when you’re going over everything.

You might laugh at him about his nerves a little, but you’ve got a whole very specific and very purposeful hair care routine going on, he’s just trying to concentrate.

Despite how much you tease him for worrying about messing up your hair you still make sure to inspect the first of your locs that he oils and retwists — two mirrors, aerial pictures, and all — just to make absolutely sure he’s really got it.

Jason’s brows climb high up his forehead and he whistles when you pull out the bag you keep all of your hair supplies in.

He still makes sure to note the brands and the unique labels of your hair products just in case he wants to get you some later; he does not want to end up bumbling around the beauty supply store racking his brain for what you use and having to interact with more people than he definitely wants to.

He scoffs a laugh the second he realizes most of the bag’s contents are hair jewelry and beads. You just smile at him.

When one of your relatives sends over homemade coconut oil and you offer him some he nearly passes away he’s so frazzled. You hord that shit like it’s gold, he’s flattered you want to share with him.

He loves the way your hair supplies smell too, though he wasn’t quite ready for the smell of homemade coconut oil.

More often than not Jason will pull you close just to catch a whiff of the products you use. Usually though it’s when your scalp is free of your more heavier products and the natural scent of your scalp is prominent that he’ll stop you in the middle of you walking somewhere or come up behind you when you’re busy to wrap his arms around you and just plant his nose in your scalp for a few moments.

The first time he did this you called him a freak and then laughed so hard you started to hiccup. You love it though.

Jason carries oversized hair ties with him once you start regularly seeing each other in case you need a backup and so that he can put your hair up himself whenever need may be without having to worry about the elastic snapping.

Whenever you’re riding him he prefers for you to leave your hair down and let your locs hang around your head for as long as possible. Loves how you look above him with your hair haloing your ecstasy strewn face and the little curtain of intimacy it gives you two.

How solidly he’s able to fist your hair and pull is something he appreciates about your locs too. If he knows some of your locs are thin or otherwise in recovery he won’t pull on your hair though.

If you’re doing a bigger or more complicated style with your hair he likes to sit and watch you when he can. There’s likely something else he was supposed to be doing too but he can’t help but stop to watch how your lips purse in concentration or your eyes cross as you’re trying to look at the back of your head in the mirror.

He doesn’t typically interfere — and really he couldn’t if he wanted to considering he can barely put your hair into a decent looking ponytail no matter how effective they are at staying in — but if you’re struggling to get a loc in place or to wrap a bundle of your hair and he sees you getting frustrated and tired he’ll move to hold your arms in place to give you a break from holding them up to your head for so long. He might not kiss you but he will rub little circles into the brown of your skin to help ease how your muscles ache.

You get Jason some sympywyby (ie: an aloe plant) as a gift because it’s supposed to be low maintenance and because he’d mentioned certain grounding techniques people used in passing. Given how absentminded he can be, especially if he tells you about being the Red Hood and/or the Arkham Knight, you get him the plant to help ground him. It’s immature when you gift it to him and generally allows him to track the passing of time if he loses himself to the weight of his memories and doesn’t want you coming to visit him just in case he lashes out.

He goes out of his way to harvest some of the plant to make a gel for you to put into your hair. He forgets to cook out the toxins at first and so when you ask him about it and he looks at you blankly you laugh, fondly rolling your eyes with your phone to your ear, and just tell him you’re flattered anyway. The next night he’s got the toxins taken cared of and is brandishing a recycled jar of gel (from a past product you had that ran out) wrapped with a ribbon tied into an absolutely immaculate bow for you to take.

The first time Jason ever sees you put your hair up quick quick while you’re in a rush without a hair tie he squints for a few long beats. You take two-three of your locs and wrap them around the bundle of the rest of your hair in your fist and use those couple of stray locs like a hair tie before probably rushing in to help someone and his first thought is that you’re fucking amazing. His second thought is about why the fuck he’s been buying and carying around special hair ties for you if you could just do that the whole time?!

It’s because you don’t want to put too much tension on your roots, but he doesn’t know that yet.

If you’re putting hair jewelry or beads in your hair he always offers to help if he’s around. He likes helping you and inexplicably feels closer to you whenever he’s winding colorful thread around your locs or beading them or just helping you clip on decorations and jewels attached to spun wire.

When you jingle when you walk due to how much beads or rings you’re wearing in your hair he finds it more comforting than he’d like to admit that he’s able to pinpoint where you are instantly no matter how soft your movement. It’s good, too, knowing that you trust Jason so explicitly that it doesn’t even cross your mind to be worried about the fact that he can find you instantly when you’re around him.

Beads do make it harder for ayo to cuddle the way he likes though, so there is that downside even though he still thinks you’re pretty as fuck. It’s a worthwhile sacrifice.

The first time you lose a loc around Jason it’s because of stress, you’d been pulling at your roots and worn them thin, and when it just comes off in the middle of the two of you talking you’re so embarrassed you burst into tears right then and there. Jason panics hard and has no option with how incoherent you get through your tears but to fail at reassuring you there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and to throw every method he knows has cheered you up in the past at you until you stop. Breathing exercises are not off the table, and with Jason’s low cadence (even as boyishly overconfident as it could get sometimes) letting him coach you down isn’t too much of a struggle.

If you lose a loc just due to regular tension and traction then the same proceedings on Jason’s end will occur too, don’t worry.

Jason doesn’t hesitate to help you reattach and strengthen your loc(s) to the best of his ability. He’s gentle with your hair, fingers as precise as if he were connecting the wires of a bomb and his demeanor just as serious; his breath steady as it fans over the exposed parts of your scalp.

After he’s finished (and you’ve inspected his work) he pulls you onto his lap and you rest your head over his heart as he carefully massages oil into your scalp and curbs the urge he has to intermittently press kisses to your hairline by instead occasionally ghosting his lips over your hairline while you two talk.

He reassures you everything is honestly fine and when you pull him into an air stealing make-out session in thanks he grips you tighter and sighs into it, completely unphased when your hair knocks softly onto his face in turn. Even when your locs brush over the ‘J’ brand he doesn’t stop, can’t say he hates the feel of them catching against any of his scars in general and he’s got no idea why.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!

I honestly don’t have much else to say besides that.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[missbliss12]

Hi there! Not sure if my message was eaten by Tumblr. I love your art with Robin and Batman hugging it out against Batman's demons. You said that you have a head canon inspired by multiple comics that Bruce lives with mental illness — coping with symptoms like hallucinations all while trying to make the world a better place. I was wondering what comics those are and what mental illness you think Bruce has? I would love to check them out! Thanks ✨️✨️

Thanks for the ask, anon! And thank you for your kind words on the Batman and Robin mental illness-related art. This is such a compelling topic… here are our personal recommendations for Bruce Wayne and Wayne Family mental health-related comics. We’re sure we’re missing some -- in which case, we’d love to hear folks’ suggestions!

Bruce Wayne mental health-related comics:

-Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth (1989)

-Batman: Ego (2000)

-Batman: Failsafe (2023)

-Batman: The Imposter (2021)

-Batman: Shadow of the Bat/The Last Arkham (1992)

-Dark Nights: Death Metal (2018)

-The Batman Who Laughs (2018)

-The Killing Joke (1988)

-Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #27 — “The Destroyer” storyline (1992)

-Batman: The Brave and the Bold, Vol 2, #4 (2023)

For Wayne Family mental health-related comics: 

-Flashpoint: Batman Knight of Vengeance (2011) – for Thomas and Martha

-Justice League Vol 2, #25 (2014) – for Thomas Jr./Owlman

-Batman and Robin (2009) and The Return of Bruce Wayne (2010) – for Wayne Family in general

Keep reading if you’re okay with being a little spoiled on mostly old comics excerpts. Or if you want to skip ahead to what mental illness(es) we think Bruce has, scroll down to the very end, which is section 6!

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth (1989)

This is our top recommendation for Bruce and mental illness related comics. It’s disturbing, plumbing the trauma around Bruce’s parents’ deaths, his fear of “sickness”, and how his Gotham villains are symbolic of his own inner demons. It’s also one of the most psychological stories — the other comics have Bruce compromised by injuries/toxins, etc., but this is just plain old bad therapy.

2. Batman: Ego (2000)

Another top recommendation with great art from Darwyn Cooke. Warning: from here on out, Bruce is going to be blurrily “crazy” or compromised by villains — we read any instances where he questions his sanity as opening up readings for mental illness. Here, Bruce hallucinates a Batman who taunts him about his guilt and fear — it’s a fascinating read.

3. Batman: Failsafe (2023)

This is a great comic about Bruce’s self restraint and his view of himself as something dangerous — in his words, “I am a gun.”

4. Batman: The Imposter (2021) - Batman: The Brave and the Bold, Vol 2, #4 (2023)

The other titles continue to explore the perennial threat of Bruce in Arkham, his fear of “sickness,” and we get some talks with Dr. Tompkins in the Imposter title. They’re not as dramatic as the top three recommendations but they continue to push a narrative that Bruce is haunted by (untreated) mental illness.

5. Wayne Family and Mental Illness

Now, in our ideal comics world, we could read the above Bruce-centered comics within the context of the Wayne Family’s struggles with mental health. This isn’t to be biologically essentialist or to say DNA determines destiny. But it would nicely build into the existing canon theme of Bruce wrestling with his family legacy. In this case, he wouldn’t just wrestle with his canonical duty to the city as an inheritor of old money, but also as an inheritor of mental illness.

The Batman and Robin 2009 run goes into detail about Bruce’s devil worshipping ancestors, and the Return of Batman 2010 issues show there are even witch hunters in the bloodline. We recommend reading those comics — you could google titles for Dr. Hurt, the mad first Thomas Wayne (maybe — or he’s a dark god or his father or…). We also highly recommend Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #27, which shows how Bruce’s ancestor, Solomon Wayne, channeled his fear of devilish forces to turn Gotham into a fearsome, gargoyle-filled city. Bruce’s own parents show signs of mental illness in the Flashpoint comics. Said comics cast Thomas Sr. as a cut-throat Batman (making one think of those associations between surgeons and sociopaths) and Martha Wayne as the Joker. It’s what the 2022 Robert Pattinson film references with Martha’s mental illness. Personally, we LOVE the idea that Thomas and Martha have mental illnesses — it gives their philanthropy and their tortured relationship with Gotham so much more complicated depth.

Lastly, there is Thomas Jr., Bruce’s sometimes older brother who almost goads Bruce into murdering their parents in another universe. Thomas Jr. is the evil Owlman or the Boomerang Killer depending on the earth we’re in. Following the logic that there’s some fidelity between universes — it wouldn’t be meaningful to confront an evil alter ego unless they reveal some inner demon you’d been trying to hide — Thomas Jr. brings up some interesting questions about mental illness with the Wayne brothers. We have plans for a story exploring a gothic Wayne Family in which Thomas Jr. and Bruce grew up with a meaningful somewhat horrific childhood relationship — in the meantime, we’d recommend checking out Thomas Jr. in the Forever Evil comics!

6. What Mental Illness(es) Does Bruce Wayne Have?

These comics open doors for reading several mental illnesses into the Wayne Family and Bruce in particular. PTSD certainly comes to mind — schizophrenia has also been name dropped as well as Dissociative Identity Disorder (called “split personalities” in Batman: Ego). Sociopathy is also alluded to, and the Joker taunts Bruce about being attracted to boys in a “sick” queer way.

We think there’s validity to the first few readings — not necessarily the sociopathy or the pedophilia. Personally, we’d like to read and write Batman stories that depict Bruce wrestling with PTSD as well as schizophrenia inherited from his mother. It fits our interests in family dramas, mother-son relationships, and humanizing depictions of female characters with mental illness. Regardless of the mental illnesses a Batman storyteller explores, they can do it in a nuanced and sensitive way. That’s not, admittedly, the MO in a lot of sensationalist and often ableist comics. But Bruce Wayne is a character who especially invites readings of mental illness — and showing him cope with mental illness while being a hardworking and empathetic hero could be inspiring for many readers, including us. That’s why we’re working on more Bruce Wayne, hero with mental illness-related stories and art we’re hoping to share soon!

Hope we could offer a few titles you haven’t read or re-read yet, anon! And thanks again for reaching out — we love getting messages from y’all about comics/media. Again, if anyone else has recommendations for Batman mental-illness related stories, feel free to comment or send a message!

[marks-bby]

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 //

[fancyfeathers]

Hello Fancy!

This is my first time requesting something and tour work is so amazing! I saw that you were still taking requests for the Villian AU and I had a few things I was wondering if you could do/anwser.

The first one is how or what would happen to Dick's darling if Dick were to escape from Arkham Asylum? Would he be able to get his darling back and keep them from Bruce forever? I was wondering how that situation would go down.

The second is basically the same as the first, but with Damian's darling. How would he react if his darling was not only was able to get away from him, the heir to the League of Assassins, but goes straight back into being Robin (or working with Barbara in the paralyzed case)? If he were to get his darling back, just how crazy and possibly violent would he get with his threats and actions after the running away?

The last one is say Bruce died or didn't, but how would life for each of the darlings look like in the future? Kids? Married? No legs to run away with?

I loved the Pomegranate story for Damian. It was written so well and don't worry about the content being different then normal, I think it added to the story in that case.

So sorry that this is so much, but as I said above, your writing is literally so amazing! ❤️

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU

Honestly it is not a matter if Dick would escape from Arkham it is when he escapes from Arkham Asylum, when he does it is a whole mess, half of the patients dead because Dick knew what they have done and deemed them not worthy of simply living, they gave up their chance for life.

But the answer is no, maybe he manages to kidnap her for a few days and he has come close to killing Bruce once or twice over the years and getting to keep her, but either time one of her sisters were there to save them.

But after a while he would really succeed when he got Tim’s help, because the circus Dick took over is known to have worked with the Court of Owls in the past. I imagine that in this AU his darling’s day job would be something like a ballerina since her persona of Dove is the equivalent of Nightwing in this universe.

So with the help of Tim there would be a silent purchase and chance of management at the theater she works at and after months of no one meeting or even seeing the new owner she gets suspicious. So after a late rehearsal one night and she is about to go to her locker where she has her suit in her duffle bag, she finds that it is gone…

“Looking for something, baby?”

She turns around and sees Dick standing there holding her suit in one hand and the tracker that Bruce had on it in the other. She isn’t so strong without her gear, not when the playing ground isn’t in her favor. It really doesn’t take that long for him to subdue her and knock her out along with throwing the tracker into the river so it would at least slow Batman down if not loose his only lead. He keeps her in the attic of the theater and for those who have never worked in a really old theater, those things are so hard to access and so hard to get out of, you could scream at the top of your lungs and no one would hear you. So when she’s locked up and high on drugs to keep her not fully aware it’s impossible to get out, but then again she is nice and safe up there, away from anyone who would want to hurt her…

She most I could see her up there is maybe a year, a year and a half, because in the Arkham Knight game, Bruce couldn’t find Jason at all for the two years he was tortured. So by the time Bruce finds her, she just starts crying, because while for a captive, she was treated incredibly well, she hadn’t seen anyone besides Dick for over a year and even then she wasn’t even lucid enough most of the time to know what was happening.

(I also love the idea of in her vigilante costume, Dick’s darling wears ballet shoes, kinda like Spidergwen)

Now with Damian, he is absolutely enraged because the moment he turns his back, one of her sisters and or Batman shows up and rescues his darling, so he just comes back to a compound of unconscious assassins and hearing that his darling has been spotted back in Gotham again.

Now if his darling goes back to being Robin then he decides just to grab her while she is still getting back on her feet, but little does he know that she is a visual learner, so all the training he did with the League of Assassins that she saw, she knows, so she actually manages to hold him off until Batwoman, Kate Kane, comes to rescue her. So he is absolutely pissed off, so when he gets his hands on her again he is far from gentle, achilles tendons are slashed and he makes good on his first promise to her, cutting out her tongue. So when she is taken back by him, she is completely reliant on him to survive, if she needs something she just has to wait for him to give it to her, if she wants something then oh well, she lost the right to what she wants when she ran away.

Now after awhile, and I mean around a few months of good behavior, he may find it in his heart to lay his darling in a Lazarus Pit so her injuries will completely heal, but that’s only because he misses the sound of her voice and he has deemed that her punishment has gone on long enough…

Well he says that, but the truth is he was lonely without the person she once was.

“Don’t pretend that you were actually useful to them, I have seen the way he looks at you after you messed up, but that is one thing we both have in common, we are the Batman’s biggest mistakes.”

Now if his darling is paralyzed from the waist down, he is far more forgiving if you can call it that. At least she is not pretending to be a hero and like she is actually useful, Damian just knocks out Barbara when they are in the clocktower one night before knocking her out and wrapping his darling up in a blanket he brought like a little baby, then when she wakes up she is back at square one.

Now I don’t know exactly where each darling will end up, but I do think that if Bruce died then Batwoman, Huntress, Spoiler, Orphan, Signal, and all the other vigilantes on Gotham would look after the girls a bit more…

Like I imagine that Dick’s darling is very good friends with the Huntress, so those two team up together more and Helena is always looking over the first Robin. Dick’s darling may get more reckless without Bruce and that will probably end up with her getting kidnapped and no one hearing from her again and without Batman they can’t find her…

Jason’s darling would decide to put up the suit for good and just focus on school and she would almost graduate, but being in the wrong place at the same time has sort of become her thing and she gets kidnapped with the intention of being organ trafficked if it wasn’t Jason recognizing her unconscious body. It’s really a shame, she would have made such a good lawyer.

Tim’s darling is able to go on as normal for a while, after all it is what Bruce would have wanted, but then one day she literally just vanishes into thin air, she was sitting in her room at the manor, working on an art piece and Alfred checked up on her one minute and when he went back she was gone and the window was left open. Everyone searched for her all over the city, but no one could find her, little do they know that she is stuck wandering the Court of Owl’s labyrinth until her mind gives out and she is left broken and ready for Tim to piece back together how ever he would like.

Damian’s darling is the one I probably thought about the most, when Bruce dies, she goes and becomes Batgirl and becomes the sidekick of Kate Kane. Then if by some miracle she manages to avoid the League of Assassins with what she learned then one day, Kate sits her down and hands her a box with the Batwoman suit inside. She is now the new Batwoman.

I imagine with that she not only picks up the mantle of Batwoman but the empty space Bruce left behind in Gotham, becoming the city’s main protector. With all of her sisters missing she is alone and more closed off than when she was younger.

But she never did cut off the head of her own snake.

Her conflicts with Damian on grow more and more when he takes his grandfather’s place as the leader of the League of Assassins. She wasn’t as strong as Bruce was and she knows that, so even though she is able to hold her own in against against Damian, she never will be able to win…

Someone would be surprised how little pressure it takes to break someone’s spine.

[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"

[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.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 3/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

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

《WORDS》 1,484 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

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

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

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

《NOTES》

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

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Take care of yourself, Jason.”

[hanasnx]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🍃

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