#joker x harley x reader

[acid-ixx]

(name) wayne, gagged and tied to a chair:

the villain, untying their gag: hahaha! i have kidnapped you for ransom and your father only has 5 hours left to save you by paying me!!!

(name) wayne: damn bruh my father hasn't spoken to me in 13 and a half years i don't think he's coming for me at all, better if you shoot me instead lmao cause i don't think batman would save me either

villain: ...

yan! villain, untying your ropes: welp, kidnapping is basically illegal adoption, am i right?

(name) wayne: as long as i'm fed three times a day and you read me bed time stories before i sleep then i guess that counts?

yan! villain: sweetheart, you are getting more than that.

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

How different marvel and dc characters would hold your face:

Tony stark, loki, bucky Barnes, Bruce wayne, Oliver queen, Dawn Granger, donna troy, Carter Hall

Thor, Clint Barton, Agatha harkness, rio vidal, Jason todd, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Diana prince, Dinah lance,

The joker, poison ivy, harley Quinn, Jason todd, logan howlett, Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr

Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, Peter quill, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, bruce banner , dick grayson, Tim drake, Barry allen, John Stewart

[invincibledc]

MORE JACKKKKKKKK

⋆˚࿔ 𝑯𝑬’𝑺 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

────୨ৎ────

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐎!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

── .✦ Synopsis: At a gala, that Jack had snuck into, he sees a girl trying to throw herself all over what’s his. And that’s his man.

── .✦ Genre: oneshot

── .✦ Info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin brother of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

── .✦ Word count: 1,356

Classical music rang through the air, and you stood there not impressed by the usual gala setting your father has made. The same goes for your brother as he just left you to do your own thing as he does his own. Damian and you are the same but in different ways.

You can handle most of the interactions with the people, he can't. Due to the people who had pinched his cheeks and crowded him and you.

He took the most pinching as he pushed you behind him, older brother things of course. Despite all that, it seems that as years went on, and you got older, you saw that most of the adults brought their offspring here. The waiters gave off drinks and even some appetizers.

Okay so maybe the only thing you like about the gala is the food, what? You’re a growing boy. You walked through the talking people, ignoring the slight comments of you being “rude” for interrupting such a nice conversation between adults. But you knew they were just here to gloat about their richness and show up to at least get a little amount of clout of being here.

Either way, you flagged down a waiter, smiling wide as the waiter smiled. The waiter strutted over, “Yes Mr. Wayne?” you pointed to the shrimp, the shrimp was nicely air-fried, just perfect for you.

“Could I have that please?” the waiter nodded, moving their arm towards you for you to grab it. You grabbed it off the plate, your eyes lighting up at the sure crisp texture of the shrimp. And you were so gonna devour this, and maybe get more as the time passes on.

You took the shrimp in your mouth whilst the waiter went off to another person who had flagged them down. While you chewed on the delicious shrimp, you felt a finger tap your shoulder.

Turning your body around, there you see some random girl. She was attractive, sure. But her aura just set you off, you couldn't help but scrunch your nose at the fact of her strong perfume. It wasn't even a good strong but the kind of strong that makes your head spin.

“Hey handsome, what's your name?” she says with a flirty tone, her hand grazing your arm. You reeled your arm back and even took a step back.

Yeah, this may not go well.

—JACK’S POV—

He hummed, strolling through the gala he had certainly snuck into. He isn't stupid to not take off his green hair-sprayed hair, showing off his blonde locks. His blue eyes scanned the room of the gala. He heard, no, he knew you were gonna be here. So why not meet his adorable obsession, his beloved boyfriend?

So here he is, moving slickly through the bodies of people. He saw a tray of delicious small biscuits and snagged a few, grinning like a child, he plopped one into his mouth.

But it seems that it wasn't that good to eat anyway. Coughing at the dry biscuits that tasted like cardboard. He forgot how bland rich people's food can get. He grabbed water off a tray and gulped it down. After that, he dumped the other biscuits into the trash. Yeah never again was he eating any more rich people's food. He moves through the people again.

If there was one person, or at least two he didn't want to see. It would be Jason and Damian. Mostly Jason, Jason just hates him and he hates him back.

Through the crowded people, he couldn't help but have a mischievous grin when he took off a ladies’ diamond watch. It was so quick that the elegant woman didn't notice her 20-grand watch.

“Hehe, suckers,” he says under his breath. He stuffed the watch into his black suit. He continues to stride through the ballroom, and there he finally sees you, his eyes widening with excitement. But that seemed to falter as his eyes darkened, his normal blue eyes seemed to look dark ocean blue.

There he sees a girl touching up on you, you look uncomfortable, trying to move back subtly. But it seems she wasn't taking the hint that she isn't as beautiful as she seems.

—NO ONE POV—

Trying to move back, the girl finally had enough. “Why don't you just touch me? Am I not that beautiful for you?!” she exclaimed.

“Not just that, but disgustingly over touchy.” a raspy voice said, you turned around to meet the boy joker out of his alter-ego. His neat blond hair, his dark expression and his eyes glaring at the girl.

“Ja-jacklyn?” you said shocked to see him here. Before you could further ask how he could even be here, he pulls you to his body. Your back making a complete puzzle to his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist, his eyes trained on the girl who looked more shocked than you.

“What the..” she says, seeing his jack’s hands pressed neatly on your hips, his arms making an X due to how he was holding you around your waist with both arms.

“As you can see, he’s mine, sweetheart. Not something your prissy little hands can try and touch.” Jack had a smile on him, but it didn't dare reach his face. A dark look stayed on his face as he squeezed your body tighter to him.

“So back off,” he says lowly, sending chills to the girl who seemed a little scared at how the boy seemed. Whilst you had chills due to his warmth his breath hit your ear.

The girl scoffed, walking off, her heels clicking as she pushed a waiter out of the way. The girl gained weird looks, but that didn't matter as Jack let you go. Dragging you by your arm and pulling you to a quiet place from the ballroom.

“Jack! Slow down, you’re walking so fast.” Jack ignored your protests, he threw you into a room and closed the door from behind without looking.

Stumbling into the room, you glared at him as you turned to stare at him. However, that glare soon disappeared as you saw how Jack looked. His hair is now messy and his eyes hovered over you like a predator.

“Puddin`, as much as I hate rich people,” struts towards you, chuckling darkly, he reaches over and grabs you to him. Having his warm hand behind your neck as his breath fanned over your lips. “I hate the kind that think they can touch you as if they own you,” he says darkly, his already raspy voice making it seem more low.

You couldn't help but breathe slowly, your body warming up as Jack’s eyes scanned over your face. His dark eyes started to light up a bit, “damn you do look good in that suit.” Jack then kisses your lips gently.

His hands smoothly place themselves onto your hips, and you relax into the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your bodies pressed together like an enigma. Jack licks the bottom of your lip, smirking as he feels you open your mouth a bit.

“Good boy,” he says before he fully picks you up effortlessly.

“HANDS OFF THE BOY!” yelled a booming voice. You yelped, moving from Jack as Jack himself groaned annoyed. Turning his head to see Jason with Dick by his side. And then there’s Damian with a fork.

“I may not have a knife, but a fork will do.”

“Well shucks,” Jack places you down, running his fingers through his hair before shrugging. “Guess fun’s over,” he smirks before throwing a king’s card down.

Smoke disgorges from the card, covering the room. The boys coughed whilst Jack grabbed your arm, “C'mon! Let's hit the road babe!” he exclaimed with a goofy expression.

After the smoke cleared up, Jason and Damian were after you whilst Dick was still coughing, leaving the room as Tim walked over to him.

“Yeah. I'm done.” Dick says as Tim gave him a glass of water.

“Good to know. I stopped months ago.”

And this was the most entertaining gala night of your life ever.

[strawberrybyers]

being a slut and mentally ill means i’d do really well as a patient in arkham asylum

[urdreamydoodles]

Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

You are a criminal hiding under the role of a psychiatrist in Arkham

You introduces yourself as a new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, but beneath your professional facade, you're also a criminal with your own agenda. During your sessions with Gotham’s notorious villains, you forms twisted, romantic relationships with them.

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, The Riddler, Two-Face & The Penguin

Joker

- You introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist in Arkham, armed with degrees and a mask of professionalism, hiding your true nature beneath the surface. Your sessions with the Joker began with cautious probing, dancing around his mind like any other doctor would. But the moment his cold, dark eyes met yours, you both knew it was a game—one neither of you intended to lose.

- His smile, wide and unhinged, widened further each session as he slowly unraveled your façade. You found yourself intrigued by him in ways you weren’t supposed to be. The chaos he offered was intoxicating, his unpredictable mind a puzzle you craved to solve. And while you knew the risks, you couldn’t help but draw closer to his madness. In your second session, his laughter became personal, no longer mocking Arkham's walls but meant for you.

- Joker had a way of pulling you in, teasing out the criminal lurking beneath your skin. You weren’t just a doctor—you were a kindred spirit, someone who understood his twisted view of the world. He could see it in the glint of your eyes when you spoke to him about Gotham’s hypocrisy, about the system’s flaws. And one day, as you were closing your notebook, his voice cut through the air: "You’re not one of them, doc. You’re like me."

- Your heart raced, but you played it cool, chuckling softly as if you weren’t shaken to the core. From then on, your sessions turned into something more intimate. Conversations turned into whispered secrets, truths about your past crimes, the people you manipulated to rise in the criminal underworld. Joker reveled in it, seeing the darkness he knew you were hiding. He began to speak about you in ways that made your pulse quicken, about how you could rule Gotham together, throw the city into disarray with your combined intellect and chaos.

- The tipping point came when, during a particularly charged session, he reached across the table, his gloved fingers brushing yours. There was a promise in that touch, something raw and dangerous. The lines between doctor and patient blurred completely when he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a smear of red lipstick on your mouth. You didn’t pull away—you couldn’t. Instead, you let him pull you into his world of madness, where logic twisted into a wicked kind of love.

- After that day, it wasn’t just therapy anymore. You became his accomplice, helping him from the inside, pulling strings behind Arkham’s walls. And when he finally escaped, you were right there beside him, both of you laughing at the chaos you would unleash. You weren’t just the Joker’s psychiatrist—you were his queen of madness, his partner in crime, and Gotham was yours to play with.

Harley Quinn

- When you walked into Arkham as the new psychiatrist, you were immediately drawn to her. Harley Quinn, the infamous former doctor turned criminal, sat across from you, her playful smirk never faltering. But you knew better than to take her lightly. Behind her giggles and flirtations was a woman who had once been where you were, a professional undone by obsession. Little did Harley know, you had the same spark of madness within you, hidden under the guise of professionalism.

- Your sessions with Harley were like a dance, a back-and-forth of wit and insight. She would tease you about your job, mock the way you spoke in clinical terms, but you both knew she was testing you. You always answered with a smirk of your own, showing her that you weren’t as buttoned-up as you seemed. You weren’t just here to analyze her—you were here to connect, to peel back the layers of her mind because you saw yourself in her.

- One day, during a session, she leaned in close, her eyes flickering with interest. "You know, doc, you remind me of someone." Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and you knew she meant herself. You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I’ve heard that before." She narrowed her eyes, suddenly serious. "You ain’t like the others." And she was right. You weren’t.

- You started to let bits of your real self slip through, sharing small pieces of your criminal side with her. You knew she would understand, maybe even admire it. Harley watched you carefully as you spoke about the schemes you had been part of, the power you wielded under the radar. She loved it. And before long, your sessions were less about her and more about the connection between the two of you.

- The day she kissed you was a blur of impulsive passion. After a particularly heated exchange, Harley had grabbed your tie, yanking you toward her, your lips crashing together. There was no hesitation on your part, only a thrilling sense of liberation. You were no longer pretending to be the psychiatrist, and Harley wasn’t just your patient. You were equals, two criminals playing a dangerous game of love and power.

- From that moment on, you were inseparable. You used your position to smuggle things in for her, weapons and plans for her next big heist. Harley, in return, made you feel alive in a way no one else ever could. She saw your darkness and embraced it, encouraging you to step deeper into the life you had been hiding. You became her partner in crime, but unlike the Joker, you weren’t controlling her. You were both free in each other’s chaos, equals in madness.

- The day you helped her escape Arkham was the beginning of something wild. Together, you wreaked havoc on Gotham, her unpredictable energy and your calculated cunning making you an unstoppable duo. You were Harley’s new obsession, but it wasn’t one-sided. She was yours too. You weren’t just another doctor who fell for the wrong patient—you were a criminal mastermind who found the perfect match in Harley Quinn.

Poison Ivy

- You introduced yourself to Arkham as just another psychiatrist, another cog in the system. But from the moment you sat down across from her, the infamous Poison Ivy, you knew you were dealing with someone who could see through your façade. Her green eyes were sharp, watching you with a knowing look as you asked your initial questions. You were careful, though. You knew better than to underestimate a woman like her.

- Each session was a test, a game of wits between the two of you. Ivy wasn’t like the others—you couldn’t simply manipulate her or play into her weaknesses. She was strong, both mentally and physically, her connection to nature giving her a kind of power you admired. And she could sense something off about you, something that didn’t fit with the usual Arkham doctor. You were good at hiding it, but not good enough. "You’re not just a shrink, are you?" she asked one day, a sly smile playing at her lips.

- You leaned back, meeting her gaze evenly. "And you’re not just a criminal." It was an admission, a silent agreement that you were both more than you appeared. Ivy’s curiosity grew from that moment, and so did yours. She wasn’t just another patient to you—she was a woman who had taken control of her life, her body, and the world around her. You respected her, even admired her strength, something you had always craved for yourself.

- Slowly, your conversations turned into something more intimate. You shared pieces of your own life with her, your involvement in the criminal underworld, your ability to manipulate others without them ever realizing it. Ivy listened carefully, her expression neutral, but you could tell she was interested. She liked the idea of someone who wasn’t afraid to challenge the system from the inside, someone who understood the game she was playing.

- One day, she leaned in close, her fingers brushing against your wrist, sending a strange, almost electric pulse through your skin. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t pull away. You were drawn to her, to the danger, to the idea of losing yourself in her world. It wasn’t long before your professional boundaries crumbled, and you found yourself kissing her, tasting the sweet poison of her lips. It was intoxicating, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer confined to Arkham. You helped her in secret, bringing her the resources she needed, aiding her in her environmental crusades. Ivy saw the criminal in you and nurtured it, just like one of her plants. She didn’t want to control you—she wanted to empower you, and you let her. Together, you became a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous duo that Gotham wouldn’t soon forget. Poison Ivy had claimed you, body and soul, and you loved every minute of it.

Bane

- Your arrival in Arkham as the new psychiatrist was unremarkable to most, but when you were assigned to Bane, things took a darker turn. His reputation was terrifying, the man who broke the Bat, a living embodiment of strength and intelligence. But you weren’t afraid. You were drawn to him, to the power he represented, both physical and mental. You had always craved control, and Bane was the perfect subject—someone you could manipulate, or so you thought.

- Your sessions with Bane began like any other, with you trying to delve into his psyche, trying to understand the mind behind the monster. But he was different from the others. Bane wasn’t just brute strength—he was calculating, strategic, and he quickly saw through your act. He didn’t say it right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting for you to slip up.

- It didn’t take long for him to speak up. "You’re not here to fix me," he said one day, his voice deep and commanding. You froze, knowing you couldn’t hide from him anymore. "No," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I’m not." You weren’t just a psychiatrist—you were a criminal, someone who had risen through Gotham’s underworld, and you wanted to understand the man who had brought the city to its knees.

- Bane respected honesty, and from that moment, your dynamic shifted. He didn’t see you as a doctor anymore—he saw you as an equal, someone with the same hunger for power that he had. You were fascinated by his mind, by the way he strategized and planned every move. He was a genius, far beyond what most people gave him credit for, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

- The tension between you grew with each session. Bane was controlled, disciplined, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. It was subtle, but it was there. You were drawn to his strength, to the raw power he exuded, and you knew he felt the same. One day, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself standing too close to him, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand, large and calloused, reached out to gently touch your cheek, his eyes dark with intent.

- "You are more than they realize," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a heated, dangerous kiss. There was no softness in it—only raw passion and the unspoken understanding that you were both forces of nature, bound by a mutual respect and hunger for power.

- From that day on, you were no longer his psychiatrist. You were his partner, his equal in every sense of the word. Bane trusted you in ways he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him plot his next move against Gotham. You were the brains behind his brawn, working together to bring the city to its knees once again. You loved him, not just for his strength but for his mind, for the way he saw the world and molded it to his will. Together, you were unstoppable, a force that no one could stand against. And you reveled in the chaos you would unleash.

Scarecrow

- When you first introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist at Arkham, you were already aware of Jonathan Crane's reputation. The master of fear, the Scarecrow, was infamous for his obsession with the mind's darkest corners. But what intrigued you wasn’t just his fixation on fear—it was the brilliance behind it, the cold, calculating intellect that twisted psychology into something deadly. You weren’t there to cure him, though. Beneath your polished exterior, you had your own darkness, your own secrets, and a hunger to learn from someone like him.

- From the first session, there was a tension in the air. Crane wasn’t like the other patients who tried to charm or manipulate you—he studied you, analyzing every word, every gesture. His voice was calm, his demeanor almost detached, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew you weren’t like the other doctors. "You’re curious," he remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But not about my recovery."

- You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "No, Dr. Crane. I’m curious about your work." That was the moment he saw you for what you were—a kindred spirit, someone who wasn’t afraid of fear but fascinated by it. Your sessions became less about psychology and more about power. Crane saw potential in you, and you in him. You started talking about fear on a deeper level, about how it controlled people, how it could be harnessed and used.

- As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to his mind, the way he saw fear not as a weakness but as a tool. You began to share your own experiences, the times you had manipulated fear in others to get what you wanted. Crane listened, his interest piqued, and for the first time, he opened up about his own experiments, the thrill he felt when watching his victims crumble under his toxin’s effects.

- One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourselves standing close, too close for a professional boundary. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt through you. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto yours. "You don’t fear me, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shook your head, smiling. "I admire you." That was all it took. In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with an electric tension that had been building for weeks.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer patient and doctor. You became his confidante, his partner in exploring the darkest aspects of the human psyche. He showed you things no one else knew about—his latest fear toxin formulas, his plans for Arkham and Gotham. You helped him, using your position to cover his tracks, to gather resources, and to watch as he slowly gained more control over the asylum.

- But it wasn’t just about fear anymore. It was about power, control, and a twisted form of love that grew between the two of you. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just your patient—he was your equal, your partner in crime, and the two of you reveled in the chaos you could create together. The city would learn to fear you both, and you’d savor every moment of it.

The Riddler

- Arkham had seen many doctors come and go, but when you introduced yourself to Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, he immediately knew you were different. You weren’t just another psychiatrist trying to “fix” him. No, there was something in your eyes, something calculating. You enjoyed puzzles, mysteries, and games of wit—just like he did. You weren’t there to cure him. You were there to challenge him.

- Your first session was more of a mental sparring match than a therapy session. Nygma tested you with riddles, trying to throw you off balance, to make you stumble. But you never missed a beat. Every time he threw a challenge your way, you met it with ease, answering his riddles with a smirk. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you’re hiding something, aren’t you, doctor?"

- You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but you both knew he was right. Edward Nygma thrived on solving puzzles, and you were a puzzle he wanted to crack. But what he didn’t realize was that you were just as much a player in this game as he was. As the sessions progressed, you began to drop hints, letting him see glimpses of the criminal mind beneath your professional exterior. It fascinated him, the idea that you weren’t just there to help, but that you had your own agenda.

- One day, during a particularly charged conversation about Gotham’s elite and their weaknesses, Nygma leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’re like me, aren’t you? You see the world for what it is—a game. And we’re the ones smart enough to win." You didn’t deny it. Instead, you smiled, leaning closer. "Maybe I am."

- That was the turning point. From then on, your sessions were no longer about his rehabilitation—they were about planning. You shared your own insights into Gotham’s corruption, its flaws, its riddles. Nygma loved it. You became partners, planning your own schemes from inside Arkham’s walls. You used your position to feed him information, to help him plot his escape and his next big move.

- The chemistry between you grew with every session, the tension crackling between the two of you like static. It all came to a head one night when, after hours of trading riddles and plotting, Edward stood and crossed the room, pulling you close. "I always did enjoy a good mystery," he whispered before his lips met yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

- After that, you were inseparable. You weren’t just partners in crime—you were lovers, bound by a shared intellect and a thirst for control. Nygma trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him execute his plans, bending Gotham to your will. Together, you were unstoppable, a pair of masterminds who thrived on chaos and complexity. The city was your playground, and every riddle, every challenge, only brought you closer.

Two-Face

- When you walked into the room for your first session with Harvey Dent, you knew you weren’t meeting the famed district attorney Gotham once adored. No, you were staring at a man who had been broken by fate, his face a stark reminder of the chaos that ruled his life now. But you didn’t flinch. You introduced yourself calmly, sitting across from him like you would any other patient, knowing full well you had your own reasons for being here.

- Two-Face sized you up immediately, his scarred eye twitching slightly as he watched your every move. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious. You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "Maybe I’m just curious about how someone like you thinks," you replied coolly. He chuckled darkly, flipping his coin in the air. "No one’s ever *just curious* about me, doll."

- Your sessions were a constant tug-of-war. Harvey’s dual nature fascinated you—how he constantly struggled between his desire for justice and the dark side that had overtaken him. You, too, had a duality hidden beneath the surface. You played the part of the psychiatrist well, but beneath that, you were a criminal, drawn to chaos just like him. And as much as he tried to intimidate you, you didn’t back down, and he noticed.

- Harvey respected your strength. The more you pushed back, the more interested he became. He saw something in you, something different from the other doctors who had tried to “fix” him. One day, after a particularly heated session, he tossed the coin in the air, catching it in his palm before smirking. "You know, I’ve got a feeling you’re not so innocent yourself." You met his gaze evenly. "What if I’m not?" That was the moment you saw the shift in his eyes—the dual sides of Harvey Dent were no longer fighting each other, they were intrigued by you.

- It wasn’t long before your relationship took a darker, more intimate turn. One night, after hours of discussing Gotham’s corruption and his place in it, Harvey stood from his chair and crossed the room, pulling you close. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if he was trying to claim you as his, but you didn’t resist. You wanted it, wanted him. There was something thrilling about the danger, the unpredictability that came with Two-Face.

- From that moment on, you were his partner in more than just therapy. You helped him plan, working from within Arkham’s walls, aiding him in gathering resources for his next move against Gotham. You fed into both sides of him—the one that craved order and the one that loved chaos. Two-Face trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since his fall, and together, you were unstoppable. His coin may have decided fate, but you held the real power in your hands, manipulating the outcome to suit your shared goals. You were drawn to the danger, and with Two-Face by your side, you reveled in the chaos.

The Penguin

- As you introduced yourself to Oswald Cobblepot in Arkham, you could feel his eyes assessing you from head to toe. The Penguin was a man who built his empire on manipulation, control, and knowing exactly who to trust—and who to use. But you weren’t just another psychiatrist walking into his cell. You had your own agenda, and the second you sat down, you knew Penguin would be a challenge worth taking on.

- Oswald wasn’t subtle. "So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" he sneered, the cane in his hand tapping the ground softly. You smiled, unphased by his attempt to unnerve you. "Just trying to understand what makes you tick, Mr. Cobblepot." He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is that so? Or are you here for something a little more… profitable?" He had you pegged, and you didn’t deny it. Penguin wasn’t someone who responded to weakness. He respected ambition, and you had plenty of it.

- The sessions became a delicate dance. You learned quickly that Penguin wasn’t just a gangster—he was a mastermind, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He loved the game, the power plays, the manipulation. And you knew how to play the game just as well. Every conversation with him was layered with unspoken meaning, your words carefully chosen to show you weren’t just another Arkham shrink. Oswald began to respect you, intrigued by your sharp mind and your ability to keep up with him.

- It wasn’t long before the lines blurred between professional and personal. Penguin’s calculating gaze would linger on you a little too long, his smirks becoming something more suggestive. "You’ve got a real talent for this," he’d say during one of your sessions, his voice low and dripping with amusement. "Maybe you should be working for me instead of this place." You didn’t disagree. In fact, the idea thrilled you. Gotham’s underworld was where you truly belonged, and Penguin saw it.

- One evening, after a particularly intense conversation about Gotham’s crime families, Oswald stood, walking around his desk with that unmistakable limp. He stood close, closer than ever before, his hand gently brushing your arm. "You and me, we could run this town," he whispered, his eyes dark with ambition and something more. You felt the electricity between you, the pull of power and attraction, and when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with the promise of what could come.

- After that, you were no longer just his psychiatrist. You became his confidante, his right hand, and eventually, his lover. Together, you plotted his rise back to the top, using your position in Arkham to gather information and pull strings. Penguin admired your cunning, your beauty, and your ambition. You weren’t just someone he used—you were someone he trusted, and in his world, that was more valuable than anything.

- You found yourself falling deeper into Gotham’s criminal underworld, by his side. Oswald respected your mind as much as your beauty, and you thrived in the power he gave you. The city became your playground, and together, you schemed to take it all. Penguin may have been a ruthless crime lord, but with you, he was something more—an equal. And together, no one could stand in your way.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

PIERROT, THE SAD CLOWN.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Richard 'Dick' Grayson x Villain! Fem! Reader.

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ From the moment he first saw her, Dick Grayson knew he loved her. However, she could only perceive the sadness and darkness surrounding her. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t make her see the light he wanted to offer.

He firmly believed he could be her happiness.

warnings ⸺ Angst, ¿OOC Dick? Idk, Dark Themes, Dead, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Sexual Content, Noncon, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish is— This, to be honest, is a headcanon I came up with about three minutes ago after I was left unsatisfied with the results of two headcanons I made about Jason. Since I didn't like them, I started writing a story that I had pending about Dick Grayson.

On another note, I want to thank you for the 500 followers ♡ I will keep posting more things and such.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... had never felt such a deep void until he saw you for the first time, a blurred shadow among the rubble of Blüdhaven. You, the villain who neither screamed nor laughed, only existed in a perpetual sadness, became his obsession. Pierrot, his very own Joker, trapped in a prison of melancholy, without the frenetic spark of the crazies he used to face. That sadness you emanated was his own reflection, a crack he wanted to mend with his love, a love that bordered on madness.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... from the rooftops, watched you wander the streets, always with that lost look, as if you didn't belong to this world. Every time they fought, he felt something breaking more inside you, something he could fix if only you let him get close. The nights were long, filled with endless watchings, as he silently followed you, keeping a prudent distance, until he could no longer bear it. He knew he was losing you. How was it possible that you couldn't see how much he loved you, how much he needed you? You were trapped in your own sadness, and he, in his obsession to save you.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... one day, while watching you from the shadows, found you on top of a rooftop, and thought you were going to jump. But no. You were crying, again. It was always the same. You approached the edge, and terror engulfed him. He thought you would leap, and for the first time felt something beyond duty: he felt he couldn't lose you. So, he researched everything he could about you. Your past revealed itself to him as a dull echo of emotional deprivation, a devastated childhood, and that dark philosophy about life, death, and chaos that you admired in the Joker. You had lost yourself in that labyrinth of despair, and he swore he would bring you back.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... when he finally caught you, instead of taking you to justice as he had done before, he took you to Arkham, believing you would be safe there, under his constant watch. He visited you, he watched over you. But it wasn't long before you escaped, thanks to the Joker. Time and again, you faced him, and time and again, Dick brought you back to that exhausting cycle. However, something in him broke the last time he caught you.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... when conventional methods failed, began to seek more extreme solutions. He took you to Wayne Manor the second time you escaped from Arkham. He locked you in a room from which you couldn't escape. It wasn't a cell, it was a luxury prison, but a prison nonetheless. He watched you day and night, ensuring that nothing and no one would ever hurt you again. The need to protect you had turned into something sick. He kept you safe, locked away. It wasn't a cold cell, but the walls suffocated you, and Dick's constant presence, ever-watchful, made you feel that freedom was just an illusion. Your protests became muted whispers drowned by his excessive devotion. He didn't understand why you couldn't see what he was doing for you, why you resisted. He believed that if he could control you enough, if he could protect you from yourself, you would eventually realize that you loved him.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... looked at Bruce and the others in the Wayne family with a mix of resentment and pity. They spent millions on therapies, on psychiatrists trying to "cure you," on initiatives to "reform you." How could they be so blind? He was the only one who understood what you truly needed. The Batfamily treated you like a project, while Dick saw you as the love of his life. Didn't they realize that only he could save you? But while the others saw your despair as an illness, Dick saw in your sadness a kind of beauty that no one else understood. To them, you were just a villain; to him, you were his everything.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... every time he found you on the edge of the abyss, when your empty eyes stared into nothingness, when everything around you seemed to break apart, he was there. He hugged you tightly, his hands gripping you as though they could tie you to the world. "I love you," he whispered in your ear, as if those words could heal the pain you carried inside. He felt your resistance, your hopelessness, but that only fueled his desire further. He was convinced he could tear you from the grips of your own sadness, even if he had to break you to rebuild you.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... when you escaped from Wayne Manor, he searched for you with frantic intensity. Every time he found you, he only saw one more opportunity to prove to you that he was the only one who could save you. He surrounded you with his body, protecting you from the world, but also imprisoning you. Bruce confronted him one night, warning him that his obsession was consuming him, but Dick merely replied that love was like that, devouring and total.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... faced Harley when she tried to pull you from the abyss, believing that the chaos of the Joker would be your only salvation. But Harley didn't know what Dick knew. He could give you peace, love, not the unrestrained madness she offered. When he confronted her, the fight was not just physical. Harley mocked him, telling him he could never save you, that you would always be a tragedy, like her. And when Harley's blood stained the ground, Dick knew he had crossed a line. It wasn't a heroic battle, but a desperate act. He did it for you, to protect you from those who wanted to send you back to hell.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... the days became blurred as he kept you in the Manor, away from the world that hurt you so much. He wanted you to understand that everything he did, every confinement, every possessive caress, was for your own good. Meanwhile, Alfred and Bruce tried to convince him that what he was doing was not love, but control. But for Dick, words were useless. He believed that true love required sacrifice, and if he had to sacrifice your freedom to save you, then he would do it without hesitation.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... decided that you could no longer be in the hands of others. No one else understood what you needed. He took you to his apartment, to a place where the windows were closed and the doors always locked. You were no longer free, but you were not alone either. Dick cared for you, spoke to you of a future where you would be together and happy. Every time you tried to escape, he stopped you, not with anger, but with a disturbing calm. "It's for your own good," he told you, as he held you tighter than seemed necessary. His caresses were gentle, but behind them, there was always something darker, a desperation that grew with each attempt to flee.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... the first time he possessed you was, for him, an unforgettable moment. Your body trembled, amidst tears, as he whispered how much he loved you each time his pelvis met your backside. In his mind, you loved how he took you, how he made your intimacy cry for more of him, and how he filled you with his seed at the end of the night. Each of your sobs only reinforced his conviction that you were his forever, as he enveloped you in a mix of devotion and obsession from which you didn't know how to escape.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... followed you even into the darkest corners of your mind, where others dared not tread. When the Joker attempted to drag you back into chaos, Dick confronted him one night. The confrontation was brutal, swift, and when Dick was done, the ground was stained red. You, trembling and broken, watched as Dick tore apart the Joker's henchmen with a brutality you had never witnessed in him. That night, he took you back, covered in cuts and with a twisted smile, convinced he had saved you once more.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... dreamed of the day when you would come to your senses, when you both could walk hand in hand, form a family. In his dreams, you smiled, forgetting the pain, redeemed by his love. But those dreams never became reality, and with each passing day, you moved further away from that vision.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who... made you his in the only way he knew how. Without consent, without a voice to defend you, he took you before a judge and secretly married you. The marriage was not a celebration but an act of possession. The ceremony was silent, intimate in its darkness. Dick looked at you with that mix of devotion and madness as he bound you to him forever. In his distorted mind, it was the happy ending he had always imagined. You were no longer Pierrot, the tragic villain. You were his, completely. And in that possession, he believed he had found peace. Now you were Dick Grayson's wife, trapped in a bond you never asked for, but which he believed was your only salvation. He saw it as the perfect conclusion, the ending he had always desired. Because if you couldn't love the world, at least you could love him.

A/N ─── I hope you enjoyed this. Don't forget to leave a comment and a little heart.

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

[cece693]

Painted Devotion

pairing: the joker x male reader tags: male reader is a hero, joker is infatuated with you, no joker used in mind, the thought is there

The moment the SWAT team hauls him away, you think this is finally over—until you hear that cackling laugh echo through the paddy wagon window.

A few days pass. You immerse yourself in your usual hero duties—cleaning up small-time heists, taking down petty thugs. But it doesn’t escape your notice that you almost miss the Joker’s particular brand of chaos. There was something in his eyes that day, a wild, obsessive affection that went beyond the typical villain-hero dynamic.

You’re patrolling a dingy back alley near the Bowery when it happens again. A security guard from the Gotham Museum of Contemporary Art is doubled over, reeling from a sudden gas attack. The faint green haze around him makes your stomach churn; you’d know that Joker toxin anywhere. Instantly, your heart pounds. He’s out. He’s free. Or worse—this is part of his elaborate scheme to bait you again.

You slip into the museum through a shattered stained-glass window. The corridors are dim, silent except for your footsteps. Then you see it: a large neon sign mounted on the marble statue of the museum’s founder. The sign reads: “You hardly come to see me. So I brought my exhibit to YOU!” in swirling, chaotic letters. Around the base of the statue are clown-faced mannequins, each posing with various “Joker merchandise”—fake bombs, painted roses, over-sized playing cards.

A voice croons from above: “Hero? Heeeero, come out, come out, wherever you are…”

The Joker drops down from a second-floor balcony, landing with a theatrical flourish. He’s practically bouncing on his toes, as though he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

“Oh, I knew you’d show,” he says, a desperate glee flickering across his painted face. “After all, you always do. But you sure are taking your sweet time.” He adjusts his lapels, letting out a comically offended huff.

You glance around, searching for hostages or bombs. But surprisingly, you see none. Just the Joker, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes crinkled in a mix of frustration and delight.

He points a gloved finger at you, wagging it like a scolding parent. “I heard you had a run-in with…oh, what’s-his-name…Candlefly? Firefly? Some lesser insect who tried to torch a warehouse? He barely even had to set a building ablaze, and poof, you came running! Meanwhile, your dear Joker?” He clutches his heart, feigning heartbreak. “I have to pull the entire Gotham Philharmonic into a fish tank, or blow up half the Arkham library just to get you to glance my way!”

Stepping closer, you notice he’s trembling, excitement layered with genuine distress. It’s disturbing how you can practically feel his longing crackling in the air.

“Haven’t you been getting my letters?” he whines. “I’ve poured out my heart on stationery that cost a fortune! And that last ‘little gift’… you didn’t even thank me.” He pouts, lip jutting out like a petulant child. “Don’t you know how to accept a token of affection, or do I need to teach you some manners?”

Your brows furrow, keeping your guard up. “This isn’t how you show affe—”

He cuts you off with a playful stomp, then does an overdramatic twirl. “Oh, don’t you lecture me on love, hero! I try so hard. You ignore me, but you still find time for these losers instead of your dear Joker!” He narrows his eyes, voice wavering between mania and heartbreak. “It’s humiliating, you know.”

Despite the dangerous situation, you feel a twinge of pity. His feelings—warped though they are—seem undeniably genuine.

You stand your ground, trying to quell the swirl of sympathy. “Joker, people are getting hurt because of these stunts. Whatever…feelings you have, it doesn’t justify—”

“Feelings?” His manic grin twists into a desperate smile. “Oh, I have more than feelings, dear. I’m infatuated. Smitten. I want to see that lovely expression of shock on your face whenever I pop into your life. Isn’t that romantic?” He sighs dreamily, then cocks his head. “Don’t you like being wanted?”

Your jaw tightens. You can’t let him get under your skin. Instead, you try to see if he’s rigged the museum with explosives; it’d be typical Joker. You subtly shift your gaze, looking for signs.

He notices immediately. “Looking for bombs, are we?” he snickers. “No bombs this time. No guns. Just me.” A faltering grin paints his face. “I wanted to talk. Really talk. Because if I have to blow up another building to get your attention, well…” He shrugs, glancing away with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “I will, but I’d prefer not to. I want you all to myself, without those distractions.”

He slinks forward until there’s scarcely a foot between you. His gloved hand stretches out, almost daring to brush your chest.

“Is it really so hard to drop by Arkham for a chat? Maybe we could schedule a…date.” He laughs, though there’s desperation woven into his tone. “But no, you’re too busy chasing every nobody in Gotham. I suppose I’m just…unremarkable to you.”

He pouts again—really hamming it up—his voice taking on a whiny edge. “You don’t love me. You only show up out of obligation. It’s not fair.” You swallow hard. The tension is suffocating, a bizarre blend of comedic theatrics and real heartbreak. You have no illusions about his capacity for violence, but that undercurrent of raw longing is shaking your resolve.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you finally manage. “People are scared, Joker. They’re terrified. And you’re not giving me a choice but to respond.”

He giggles, shoulders bouncing. “Precisely! That’s the point, my dashing do-gooder! If the only way to see that handsome face of yours is to threaten the entire city, then so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes, because I— I— oh, you’ll laugh at me if I say it.”

He claps a hand over his face, peeking at you through splayed fingers. The sight would be comical if it weren’t so chilling. You stand there, arms tense at your sides, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

A moment later, he sighs heavily, dropping his hand. “But I have to say it: I love you, you stubborn, noble idiot! There! Now it’s out, for heaven’s sake. Laugh, scream, do what you want.” He throws his arms up, voice cracking with frustration. “But don’t you dare run off to fight some C-lister while I’m locked away again. I won’t stand for it, do you hear me? I won’t stand for it!”

As if on cue, the sirens outside begin wailing, bright red and blue lights swirling through the museum windows. The GCPD. They’ve arrived, no doubt alerted to the disturbance. Joker glances at the lights, then back at you, his expression torn between amusement and disappointment.

He exhales a broken laugh, lifting his hands in a theatrical surrender. “I guess our rendezvous is over.” He twists around, letting the cops see him, raising his arms as they enter. But even as the officers draw near, weapons trained, his attention remains locked on you.

Your mind spins with everything unsaid, everything you never dreamed you’d hear from the Clown Prince of Crime. He meets your gaze once more, a faint scowl on his lips.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “maybe you’ll come of your own accord.” He tilts his head, his voice turning whiny again. “Because I��m so sick of having to go through all. This. Trouble.”

The cops close in, cuffing his outstretched hands. Joker doesn’t protest; he simply grins—a delirious mixture of sadness and triumph. As they pull him away, he lets out a manic giggle, calling over his shoulder:

“I’ll be waiting, my sweet hero. I’ll keep sending gifts— and next time, you won’t ignore me, will you?”

The museum falls silent, the Joker’s cackle fading into the background as he’s led outside. Part of you is relieved it’s over. Another part knows it won’t ever truly be over—because for the Joker, you’re not just a heroic rival. You’re an obsession, a twisted muse, the one he can’t bear to be without… even if he has to destroy Gotham to make you come running.

[axetivev]

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would work in Arkham Asylum. Dealing with most of Batman's enemies and actually vibing with them and having a better relationship then Bruce to his enemies (and his husband isn't having it).

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who will have a session with Joker while Bats and Hood stared at the clown's very soul. Batman would be prepared if Jason had the feel to charge to Joker while Y/N tried to stay professional, but deep down, he just wanted to laugh his ass off.

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would tag along with Ivy about plants. Which led to papa!reader asking to buy plants to Bruce (in a ridiculous amount). Which led to Bruce coming to Arkham to question her; What did you do to my husband?

(MPREG INCOME) Papa!Reader, a Psychological who was pregnant and the super-villains, oddly enough. Gentle with him, unlike their usual evil persona, and if there's anyone who dares to say something horrible to him, they'll get a beat down.

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who was pretty much close to Batman like metal and magnet, talked so lovingly if anyone wasn't around. And the possibilities of his super-villains knowing Papa!reader was his husband made Bruce—i mean Batman go wild.

"My love... I can't let my enemies know I'm a lovebird with their psychologist..." Batman spoke, his voice was deep but barely a whisper while trying to stay professional as Papa!reader continues to shower his rough cheek with kisses.

"Mhm, deal with it, Bats. ♡"

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would often bring snacks to his patients, declining wasn't an option. And it would never be.

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who got books from Harley Quinn about psychology. And would come home with 2-4 huge books about it.

Alfred : If I may ask, where do you get them. Master Y/N?

Papa!reader : Harley Quinn.

Alfred : Ah... Miss Quinn.

Bruce spits his coffee : Quinn???

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would go on sessions with Damian (as Robin), clinging to him or when he sat down, Robin would rest his head in his lap, while reading a book or sleeping. And his patients would question Papa!reader

Patient : Why is the Boy Wonder sleeping on you?

Papa!reader who was writing while patting Robin's head : He's my son.

Patient who didn't hear it clearly : Your who...?

Papa!reader visibly sweating : Ah... j–just let him sleep! Let just continue—

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would always bring a pepper spray. Well, Bruce was the one who told him he should bring one...

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who is absolute besties with Harley, Batman would grumble about the fact she "took" his husband away from his grasp.

NSFW!!

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would get pinned against his office desk. Stomach facing the wooden table as Batman pound his hole without mercy if jealousy rose or just needed a quickie.

Batman came to Papa!reader's office. As the male was on his desk, busy with some documents, the Dark Knight grabbed Papa!reader's waist, kicking his chair, Batman immediately pulled down Papa!reader's pants as his hole was in sight, he wasted no time. Immediately pulling his own pants, before inserting his length. Pounding his husband's hole without mercy.

"Mmh... B–bats... s–slow down...mm..ngh!" Papa!Reader moaned, as Batman inserted his index and middle finger to his husband's mouth.

"Keep your voice down. You're a good boy, I know you are." Batman smirked against his cheek, before planting kisses on Papa!reader's soft cheek.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 1

Debut

Your official debut as the Joker's sidekick didn't come till you were 17

People knew of you prior to this, they knew Joker and Harley had been harboring a little maniac with a penchant for bombs

The uptake in explosives the Joker employed was less than subtle proof something had changed

Harley being a tad more mentally stable (tad being the key word) didn't want their surrogate child being caught in any crossfire

Joker didn't care

So they compromised with you being allowed to build your devices but not allowed to have any direct involvement in their escapades

Then you grew older and more confident

You demanded to be more involved

This of course came with risks

No more free roaming the streets of Gotham, now you'd have a target on your back

And most notably there was the Batman

Though he didn't know the exact nature of your relationship with Joker he was already well aware of your existence, just not your face or name

Until today

You were tasked with protecting the Joker's new cargo shipment. Weapons for the henchmen, canisters to house laughing gas, just your typical odds and ends. Easy work.

Or it should have been.

The Bat decided to make an appearance. He made quick work of your 'partners' (low level thugs really). You weren't worried though. You knew that the Dark Knight had strict rules not to kill. But you didn't.

You triggered the preemptively placed smoke bombs. Walking out to the front of the ship, still unloaded and parked in the harbor, you came face to face with the infamous Batman.

He stared you down, no surprise nor malice. Just a warning look.

"Hi."

You pulled the pins on two grenades and threw them at the man. With a flourish of his cape he shielded himself. Long enough for you to slip away.

That was until a blur of red and black caught your eye. And a fist. You weaved out of the way, barely missing the punch.

"Woah there, Boy Wonder. Don't you know the rules? You can't hit a girl!"

"You're not a girl, you're a villain."

"It's called duality."

The boy growled and threw another punch. Again, you weaved out of range. You reached behind your back for the gun you kept on hand. With a swift kick however, it went flying from your grasp. You were tackled to the floor, Robin pinning you down with a snarl.

"You aren't used to a fair fight, are you?"

"Fair my ass, there's two of you!"

"What are you even supposed to be?" The boy scrutinized your appearance. "Joker 2.0?"

"Jinx."

"What?"

"My name is Jinx."

The masked boy scoffed. "That doesn't match at all."

"Oh, and remind me what a robin has to do with bats?"

The boy opened his mouth only to immediately close it. He looked away in embarrassment. "I didn't pick it."

An opening.

You kneed him between the legs before rolling him over. The boy groaned out in pain. Before you could run a hand pulled you by the hair. You curse your long braids.

"That's enough."

You turned to eye the large man in black. There he stood, scowling, with a fist full of your green locks. You stared blankly.

"Can you let go now?"

"Depends. Are you going to run?"

You merely offered a smile

"Then no."

That was the first time you found yourself in the back of the batmobile.

Restrained to your seat of course, held against your will, Batman attempting to interrogate you. Still, you couldn't help but beam at the vehicle. Buttons and switches lined the dash with a voice activated screen in the middle. Hell, even the seats were equipped with built in tasers. You were in awe.

"This. Is. Amazing! What's the mileage on this baby? Do you really have an oil slick? What about tire jacks?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Uh, duh! That's why I asked."

The boy in the seat ahead of you mumbled something you couldn't hear. If your legs were free you'd have kicked the back of his seat.

"Hey, Boy Blunder. What's your damage? You caught me, didn't ya? Quit whining."

"You kicked me in the-!"

"Robin."

Batman didn't even take his eyes off the road. At least you don't think he did. Hard to tell with the mask. The boy crossed his arms defensively. Though he didn't say anything.

Oh? This would be fun.

"So... why a robin? Small, dainty, useless..."

He turned in his seat to face you. "So help me-"

"Robin."

"But she-!" The Bat glared this time. "I'm just supposed to let her trash talk me?!"

"You're supposed to ignore her."

"Yeah, Robin. Ignore me." You grinned.

Before he could retort a sudden crash reverberated through the car. Green smoke flooded the windshield. You'd recognize your handiwork anywhere.

"Hey, Batsy!" You heard Harley sing out. "I think you took somethin' o' mine."

It didn't take too long for Harley to rescue you. Batman may have strength but your family has speed. And bombs. Lots of bombs.

When you returned to the hideout Joker was less than pleased. You fumbled the shipment and had to be rescued. How pathetic.

Now he thinks I'm weak.

I am not weak!

And I'll prove it.

[superyum]

It drives me insane that I can’t find a twerking scenario for dc characters yet. Like I wanna know Dick’s or Bruce reaction to reader shaking some ass in a club on a Tuesday night to release stress. Clark Kent getting a lappy for the first time, is he foaming at the mouth or WHAT? What about a girl days in with Harley and it turns into a twerk off?? Give me some fucking “baby grind on me~” content pleassse. I already know marvel does, very few, but it’s a hell lot more than dc.

[acid-ixx]

"hostage situation"

series masterlist

nightwing, to his siblings: okay, so we have to be real careful because the joker and harley quinn are holding our baby sibling hostage and we can't put them in anymore danger.

nightwing, looks at red robin: i'm sure they have some traps laid around the lair so you'll be disarming it.

red robin, nods:

robin: then me and todd will be handling any spare targets, no?

nightwing: of course. cass, steph and duke will be guarding the entrance. babs?

oracle, speaking in the intercoms: this is the closest point of entry where (name) is being kept hostage.

red robin: security cams suggest there's more than just harley and the joker in the lair. a bunch of their goons are heavily guarding both the entrance and the exit. we should thread carefully.

oracle: there's no camera's where (name) is exactly at, but there's a specific room where it's shown that the two are often visiting.

batman, who had been lurking behind them: this is a priority mission. we can't afford to make mistakes.

robin, eyebrows raised: though, is it necessary to bring the entire family? me and my father could handle this entirely by ourselves.

jason, sighs: don't pretend like you weren't the first to suggest the entire justice league to come searching for them, kid.

batman: enough arguing, (name) needs all the support they could get after this. so on my count, we are to bust open the door.

dick: alright, everybody, prepare.

*meanwhile, inside the lair, in a makeshift "house"*

(name), sitting on a comfy chair whilst holding a cup of hot chocolate and a book in the other, sneezes: oh— did anyone mention my name?

harley quinn, already on her way to wipe their nose: oh my baby! is our baby sick?!

(name): no, i just suddenly sneezed?

the joker, in another room: i spy with my little eye, a child way past their bedtime~ c'mon babyboo, let's get you to bed!

(name): awe, but it's like, 10pm. i wanna read some more.

harley, about to pick (name) up: then let momma read the book for you in bed, cutesy pie—

*the door to the kitchen slams open*

dick, with his escrima sticks on-hand: surrender (name) to us now or—!

dick, absolutely befuddled: wait, what?!

damian, with bruce in tow: what's the hold up, nightwing?!

damian, about to jump right in front of dick before he was stopped by bruce's hand on his shoulder: what is... this?

bruce: ... explain the meaning of this, harley.

harley, holds (name) closer to her chest as she's equally confused: what do ya mean, bats? ain't it obvious i'm taking care of my child?

(name): uhm...

damian, visibly offended: what do you mean, your child? (name) over there is ours.

the joker, walks over to the room in a hurry: what's with all the commotion over here?! (name) is supposed to be in bed, harle— batman?!

bruce, with squinted eyes: don't act stupid, what is this all about?

nightwing, surveying the room: wait, why is (name) in pajamas?

(name), trying their best to shrug in harley's tight hug: i'm... supposed to go to bed...?

the joker, about to walk over to (name) before he's stopped by a batarang almost hitting the side of his head: hey! what's that for? i'm clearly not trying to attack my own child!

bruce: (name) is my child, not yours.

the joker, glaring at batman: well, it's not my fault they choose me over you!

(name) wayne, interrupting the two: uhm... i did technically disown myself from the family so—

damian: disown yourself?

(name): i have every reason to—

dick: look, baby bird, you don't know what's right for you, these guys are dangerous—

(name): i literally got nearly killed by some nobody criminals if not for harley saving me but okay, nightwing.

bruce, whose attention is now on (name): you almost got what now?

(name), rolling their eyes: i almost died, batman. now if you excuse me, i think i deserve a good night sleep tonight.

(name), looks at harley who still hasn't released them from the protective hug: can we?

harley quinn, facepalming in her mind as she stares back at (name): oh, i should've bought you to pam and selina instead.

[batmans-archnemesis]

healing is realizing lego batman was the best version after all.

[invincibledc]

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. The works are either batbro!reader or batsis!reader. Reader is the twin of Damian Wayne. It can also be gender neutral as well.

HOKUS POKUS (batsis)

WILL YOU BE MY PROM QUEEN? (batsis)

LAUGHS AND BATS (batsis)

DIFFERENT SIDES (batsis)

BOOGIE MAN (batsis)

MY AXE (batsis)

HE’S MINE (batbro)

I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR THEE, DONT IGNORE ME (batsis)

KISSES N' LIPSTICKS (batsis)

BANG! POW! BOOM! (batsis)

SWEET N‘ SOUR (batbro)

YOU’RE NOT LIKE HIM (batbro)

HEADCANNONS ABOUT JACK QUINN

QUICK REFLEXES (batsis)

BAT FOR BAT (batbro)

BE AGGRESSIVE (batbro)

SUPER TOUCHY (batsib)

THATS NOT MY NAME (batbro)

-fanart-

“Stop doing this!”

“My sweet puddin'”

[x-gabrielle-x]

Withered Cards | I

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

No child would ever imagine the world to be as cruel as it really is.

Yet then again, most adults would refrain from exposing their children into the world, the harsh reality of it, at least, and Gotham was definitely a place of violence and rage.

The small nightmares every child would experience would never live up to the cruel reality of the world.

"Y/N, baby, get up," your mother whispered into your ear, panicked and rushed, causing for your eyes to flutter open.

It was still dark, meaning that it couldn't be morning, but your mother was hunched beside your bed with her fingers trailing through your hair, and that was when your gaze met her own fearful ones.

Her voice was so low in a whisper that you could barely manage to hear, fearful of what - or who - could hear us.

"We need to leave, baby. Come on."

With your eyes still groggy and barely comprehending the situation, your mother's arms carefully scooped your body up from beneath the warmth of your blankets, her grip tight and secure as she adjusted your body in her hold. You didn't fail to notice the heavy thumping of her chest and the pale complexion to her face.

“Mummy?” You asked, but she was quick to hush you, her gaze burning into the door with a look of terror you would never forget.

She waited, as if she were expecting the door to swing open any moment, but it only left the both of you in a deafening silence. Despite the obvious confusion set on your face, your mother chose to ignore it, not giving any indication as to what was occurring on the other side of the door.

With the few passing moments, your grip on her tightened, and the many fearful questions were swarming your mind. You were scared, but of what?

Without a word, she took a single step toward the door with you still held tightly in her arms, and just as her hand went to grasp the handle-

“Mum!” You spoke, too loud for her liking, because she jumped back away from the door as if it had burnt her flesh and clasped a tight hand over your mouth. She listened carefully, and when she was comfortable enough, she took her hand away.

“What did I tell you?” She whispered harshly, but her eyes softened when she saw the fearful gaze you held. “What is it?”

You pointed behind you both, back to your bed where your favorite teddy laid beside the unmade sheets. It was only small, the perfect size for a small child, with soft brown fur and button eyes. You remembered that night your father came home from work, a bouquet of various different flowers for your mother in one hand, and in his other hand he held the brown bear. He had just gone away on a long business trip, and you were overly excited after not seeing him the last few weeks. Maybe it was the fact it was from your dad, or maybe it was simply because of the soft fur, but it was by far your favorite teddy to hold while you slept.

Letting out a long cautious sigh, your mum quickly picked up the bear before giving it to you, your hands instantly going to clutch at the teddy while your mum went back over to the door.

“Ok, sweetheart. I’m going to need you to play a game with me, ok?” She looked down at you, and you nodded despite the darkness of your bedroom, only your lamp casting a small glow around the room.

She smiled gently and gave a quick peck to your forehead.

“Ok, we’re going to see who can be quiet the longest. I know you always beat me, and that’s why when I put you down, you’re going to run and hide so we can do some hide and seek.”

If it weren’t for the dim light, you only just managed to catch a glimpse of the hot tear streaking down your mother's cheek.

“Do you understand, baby?”

You nodded once more, holding a finger up to your lips as your sign you knew you had to be quiet. She let out a quiet breathy laugh.

You watched as she reached forward, her hand shaking as she grasped the door handle and slowly twisted it, pushing the door open. It was dark, the only source of light being the living room light from downstairs. You heard a small muffle of voices, one you recognized to be your father.

You wondered if maybe your dad had decided to play with you, too. Maybe that’s why your mum had been so quiet and told you to hide.

Your mum knelt down, carefully placing you down onto your feet before she stood up to her full height. You thought that it was your time to start hiding, but right as you went to turn, her hand was grasping yours tightly and she was walking down the stairs to where your father and the unknown strangers were.

There was a wall dividing the living room and the stairs, so anybody on the other side wouldn’t be able to see your mother and you crouched down at the bottom of the stairs. You watched as your mother peeked around the corner, probably to check that nobody was looking, because she was quick to pull you along to the other side of the room. You only caught a glimpse of the living room.

Your father was leant up against the kitchen counter, still clad in his pajamas, whilst five men you had never seen before stood beside the dining table. Four of them were each dressed in black, but the one in the middle was wearing what looked to be a clown costume. A purple suit with a weird bow tie, his skin as pale as a sheet of paper that made him look almost sickly. His hair was also a deep green, and for a moment you wondered if you even saw right.

The clown had a huge grin plastered onto his face, almost too wide to be natural, revealing his slightly yellowed teeth.

Your mother pushed you against the wall to remain out of sight, and when she knelt down to your level to get a good look at you, you could see the tears now freely falling from her eyes.

“Ok, my sweet girl. It’s time to hide,” she whispered next to your ear, her breath tickling your skin.

You nodded, and that’s when she leant forward to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, her fingers combing through your hair, just like how she would do it any other day to simply play with your hair.

With a quick nod, she gently pushed on your shoulders and watched as you sneakily crept to your chosen hiding spot.

It was by far your favorite spot, a small hatch underneath the desk pushed up against the wall. It was hidden beneath the few piles of shoes cluttered around, and you had to hastily move them enough to open the hatch.

You cringed once the hinges made an old rusty screech, and with ease you crawled inside, making sure to close the hatch securely behind you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you shuffled your position and felt the rough dirt and dust cling to your clothes. The bear that was still held in your hand was put at your feet, even though you couldn't see it with the darkness.

Although you could still vaguely hear the ongoing conversation, most of what you could hear was muffled. You tensed once you heard the loud cackles of the green haired man, shivers erupting over your body.

“Mrs. Y/L/N! How lovely to see the family together- oh wait, no… your little girl isn’t here?” He mocked sadness.

“She won’t be coming, Joker,” You heard your dad speak before your mother could, his voice stern and protective.

“Aw, what a shame. I was really looking forward to meeting the little lady! Perhaps maybe I can after this has all blown over.”

At this point, your confusion only grew. Nobody was coming to find you yet, and your mum was now in the same room as your dad and those other men. You felt your gut twist uncomfortably, and the fear was coursing through your body.

You wanted your parents. You didn't like this game anymore. You could only wish you were back in the warmth of your bed, peacefully asleep and unaware of the world around me.

Your mother let out a sudden loud sob.

“Please, just- just don’t hurt us or our baby. She doesn’t know anything,” you heard her cry more, and before another word could be said, a loud gunshot echoed throughout the house causing you to jump and bump your head on the hatch door.

“No!” You heard your dad scream, and it was then that you knew none of this was right. His voice was a tone you had never heard before, filled with pain and anger. You didn’t hear your mother anymore. Was she-

“I did you a favor,” the Joker cooed, your fathers muffled crying echoing throughout the house. “Women are picky. You can’t tell me the girl didn’t annoy you at least once?! You should be thanking me!”

“You monster!” Your dad screamed, before he was harshly cut off by him grunting in pain.

“Now, now, don’t be so picky. She was bothering the both of us. Now, where’s your little girl?” The Joker said, clapping his hands in a ‘chop-chop’ motion.

There was no response from your father, and you didn’t even realize the fresh tears streaming down your cheeks and falling onto your knees. You held back any whimpers in order to stay hidden.

“If you won’t tell me,” the Joker started, his tone switching from cheerful to dark. “Then I’ll get her myself.”

It was barely a few seconds, five at least, before the hatch door was swung open and your arms were grabbed. You screamed and thrashed, before you were harshly pushed forward onto the floor. Your head made impact with the wooden slats, and you cried out.

Despite the tears clouding your vision, you didn’t fail to notice the body of your mother laying lifeless on the floor, hot crimson blood spilling from a hole in her head and pooling around the floor, her blue top now stained red. Her eyes were open, glazed over and lacking life, and it looked as if she was merely frozen in fear.

You weren’t crying anymore. The tears had stopped, and now you could only watch with wide eyes the sight before you. Your mum, who you had touched and talked to and heard only a few minutes ago, was dead.

“Y/N,” your dad called, his arms outstretched, and you were knocked from your thoughts and practically stumbled into his open arms.

“Don’t look, baby. It’s ok, just don’t look,” he whispered into your ear, but his voice was shaky, and you could feel his own tears soaking into the fabric of your pajama shirt.

You heard footsteps near, but you refused to remove your face from the crook of your dad's neck, the only way to hide the scene behind you. You felt a cold hand pat your head, and your dad tugged you away from the stranger.

“Beautiful little girl you’ve gotten yourself, Xavier. She looks almost identical to you,” the Joker teased. “You know, I bet she’ll become just as great a fighter as you, huh? Just imagine it, father and daughter, working alongside the one and only Joker to rule over Gotham! Oh, it will all be so much fun, what do you say?”

You turned your head a little, catching a glimpse of the Joker crouching at the knees in front of your father and you, the smile never leaving his face. When your dad didn’t say anything, the Jokers sickening gaze drifted to you.

“How about we let the little one decide, huh? What do you think, little clown?”

You didn’t need to try answering, because your dad's grip on your body was tightening to the point you could just barely breathe.

“No, you sick shit! She’s only a kid! She’s only just started second grade. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

For a moment, it was quiet.

“You’re right…” You heard Joker sigh, standing to his feet. “Maybe that’s why we need to let her choose for herself, and to not be influenced by the wrong kind of people.”

The Joker clicked his fingers once. Two of the guards came forward and pried you from your father's warm embrace, and once more you were crying, reaching out for him. You watched as he attempted to fight to get you back but was pinned down by the other two guards while Joker stood over him.

“Such a shame, really. I did enjoy your small family. Unfortunately, it might just need to be a little smaller now.” he reached into his suit pocket, pulling out what looked to be a long needle filled with a black tinted liquid. “Recognize this?”

You watched as your dad's eyes widened, and tears streamed down his face while his voice cracked with each word.

“P-please, not my little girl. Not my girl. I’ll do anything!”

Joker laughed, loud. “Oh, you poor man. This wasn’t for the child! I’m not that cruel!” He stalked closer to your father, watching in amusement as he thrashed wildly in an attempt to escape. You saw the fear flash in his eyes.

The Joker leant close to his face, licking his lips in a mocking manner while holding up the small needle so that your dad could see.

“This wasn’t meant for your daughter, it was meant for you, silly!” And just like that, the sharp tip of the needle was penetrating your dad's flesh at the neck, his eyes grown wide in horror. He didn’t even try to fight anymore, his body giving up while he turned his head to you for the last time.

“Y/N,” he chocked, and you watched with frightful eyes as black veins spread across his neck, traveling over his body like bolts of lightning. He groaned in pain.

"I love you so much, baby. I'm sorry," he cried. "Do you understand? I love you so much."

Your body shook as his eyes met yours. You didn't have the voice to say it back, and you saw the hurt flash in his eyes. Opening your mouth, the only thing that would come out was a chocked sob.

He fell onto his side, limp.

The Joker wiped a fake tear. "Oh my, how sad..."

He paid no mind as you continued to cry, calling out for your parents. You were sure that you were next, and you flinched when you felt the Joker's hand pat your head. He let out a maniacal laugh the more you cried, and you physically struggled to inhale more air. Nearly instantly, he frowned to what you thought was sympathy, tutting.

“Don’t worry about them, my new apprentice! Life would have been so boring here; I'm giving you another chance! How exciting! Harley will be thrilled!"

You didn't fight as he took your hand, your shaky body going to stand beside him. Even when he continued to drag you toward the door, your gaze was trained on the bodies laid out in the middle of the room, and it was then that you realized that the only person you had now was this man.

A monster brought from your nightmares.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Villains x Reader

They realize they love you after a nightmare about you dying

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- The Joker had always laughed at the idea of love. It was messy, inconvenient, and far too human for someone as “elevated” as him. So, when the nightmare came—your lifeless body crumpled beneath the rubble of some grim Gotham alley—it caught him off guard. His cackles turned to hollow echoes as he screamed your name, the vibrant color of his world bleeding into dull gray.

- He jolted awake with a gasp, his face covered in a rare sheen of sweat. His usual smirk was absent as his wild eyes darted around the room, landing on your sleeping form beside him. You were alive, breathing softly, your face peaceful in slumber. The sight of you alive was a jolt to his twisted heart.

- For the first time in a long while, he didn’t laugh. He sat there, his thoughts in chaos, a war between his denial and the crushing realization that he couldn’t imagine a world without you. It scared him more than Batman ever could. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling to the surface.

- “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice shaking. But his hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, and he froze, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his usually unhinged eyes.

- He stayed awake for hours, staring at you, convincing himself that this was just some fleeting weakness. But the image of your death lingered, gnawing at him, turning his denial into reluctant acceptance. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?” he whispered bitterly. “You’ve made the Clown Prince of Crime care.”

- The next morning, his usual theatrics were toned down. He stayed unusually close to you, his hand lingering on yours longer than normal. You raised an eyebrow at his behavior, and he waved it off with a manic laugh, but deep inside, he knew he’d never let you out of his sight again.

- That night, he held you a little tighter than usual, his arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from the world. “You’re mine,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “And no one will take you from me. Not even death.”

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley’s dreams were usually chaotic, filled with explosions, bright colors, and nonsensical antics. But this one was different. It was dark, quiet, and horrifying. She saw you, broken and bleeding, calling out to her with your last breath. No amount of laughter or jokes could save you.

- She woke with a start, her heart pounding and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Puddin’?!” she gasped instinctively, but then her eyes landed on you. You were there, next to her, your chest rising and falling steadily. Relief washed over her, and she let out a shaky laugh.

- Harley wasn’t one to dwell on emotions—she usually masked them with jokes and a bubbly exterior. But this dream? It shook her to her core. She sat up, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch your face, as if reassuring herself you were real.

- “What’s goin’ on with me?” she whispered to herself. She knew the answer deep down but wasn’t ready to admit it. The thought of losing you had torn her apart in the dream, and the intensity of her feelings scared her.

- For the rest of the night, she stayed awake, her mind racing. She replayed every moment with you, every smile, every laugh, and every time you’d stood by her side. “Guess I’m hooked,” she murmured with a small, bittersweet smile.

- The next day, she was more clingy than usual, following you around and cracking even more jokes than normal. You noticed her odd behavior, but she brushed it off with a wink and a kiss on the cheek. “Just feelin’ extra lovey-dovey today, sugar!”

- That night, as you lay in her arms, she finally whispered the words she’d been too scared to say aloud. “I love ya, ya know? Like… the real kinda love, not the crazy kinda love. Well, maybe a lil’ crazy, but still real.” She kissed your forehead, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Pamela’s dreams were rarely nightmares. But this one? It was a haunting vision of you lying lifeless among her beloved plants, your blood staining the green foliage. The image was so vivid, so horrifying, that it shattered her usual composure.

- She woke with a sharp inhale, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted to your side of the bed, relief flooding her as she saw you curled up peacefully. The nightmare lingered, though, its dark tendrils wrapping around her thoughts.

- Ivy wasn’t one to let emotions control her. She prided herself on being logical, detached. But this dream forced her to confront the truth she’d been avoiding. She cared for you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

- She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your cheek. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she feared you might disappear if she pressed too hard. “You’ve rooted yourself in my life, haven’t you?” she whispered.

- For hours, she stayed by your side, watching you sleep, her mind racing with plans to ensure your safety. She’d protect you, no matter the cost. “No one will harm you,” she vowed quietly. “Not while I still breathe.”

- The next day, her demeanor was gentler than usual. She handed you a cup of tea, her green eyes soft as they met yours. “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll keep you healthy. And stay close to me today, alright?” Her protective side was in full bloom.

- That night, as you lay in her arms, surrounded by the soft glow of her plants, she finally let herself be vulnerable. “You’re the one thing I can’t afford to lose,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my life fighting for the earth, but you? You’ve become my world.”

Bane

- Bane’s dreams were typically filled with battles and conquests, but this one was different. He saw you, broken and defeated, your life slipping away because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect you. The sight of your lifeless form was a blow worse than any he’d taken in the ring.

- He woke with a start, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes immediately sought you out, relief washing over him when he saw you safe and sound, curled up beside him. But the dream lingered, the pain and helplessness gnawing at him.

- Bane wasn’t used to feeling weak, but that nightmare had shaken him. He sat up, his massive frame tense as he stared down at you. “You are my strength,” he murmured, the words foreign on his tongue but no less true.

- For hours, he sat there, replaying the nightmare in his mind. He realized then just how much you meant to him, how deeply you’d carved yourself into his life. “I cannot lose you,” he vowed, his voice low and resolute.

- The next morning, his protective instincts were in overdrive. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, his large hand resting possessively on your shoulder. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You are important to me. That is reason enough.”

- That night, as you lay in his arms, he finally let his walls down. “I have fought many battles,” he said quietly. “But the thought of losing you? That is a battle I cannot win.” His voice was thick with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

- Bane’s love was fierce and unwavering, and from that moment on, he made it his mission to keep you safe. “You are my heart,” he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I will protect you with every ounce of strength I possess.”

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s dreams were often macabre reflections of his own fears twisted into nightmarish landscapes. But this time, it wasn’t about him. The nightmare was about you—your lifeless body crumpled in a dark alley, surrounded by shadows, your voice calling his name in desperation before falling silent forever.

- He woke abruptly, his breath shallow and ragged, the echo of your scream still ringing in his ears. For a moment, he sat frozen, his hands trembling slightly. Then his eyes darted to the bed, where you lay peacefully, your chest rising and falling in soft rhythm.

- Jonathan wasn’t one to embrace vulnerability, yet this dream left him shaken. He stared at you, his mind racing with an uncomfortable realization: he cared for you far more than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. Losing you, even in a nightmare, felt like losing a part of himself.

- He leaned closer, his hand hovering over your cheek but not quite touching, as if afraid to disturb the calm you radiated. “You’re more dangerous than fear itself,” he murmured quietly, his voice tinged with a rare warmth. “Because you’ve made me weak.”

- The following day, Jonathan was quieter than usual, his sharp words softened when directed at you. He lingered in your presence, finding excuses to stay close, though he masked his concern with his usual intellectual aloofness.

- That night, as you stirred beside him, Jonathan finally let his guard down. “You don’t realize it, do you?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’ve made me care… and that terrifies me.” His fingers brushed against yours, a silent vow to keep you safe.

- From that moment on, he became even more meticulous in his plans, ensuring no one could ever harm you. Jonathan Crane, the master of fear, had found something he feared more than anything: a world without you in it.

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey’s nightmares were like a coin flip—sometimes they reflected his inner turmoil, other times they felt like cruel twists of fate. This time, it was the latter. He saw you, the one person who made him feel whole, bleeding out in his arms as he screamed for help that never came.

- He jolted awake, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as he gasped for air. His scarred side twitched involuntarily, but his eyes sought you immediately. Relief washed over him as he saw you sleeping soundly beside him, completely unaware of his inner torment.

- Harvey sat up, running a hand down his face. The nightmare had been too vivid, too real. He couldn’t shake the image of your lifeless body, the way your eyes had stared at him, full of trust even as the light faded from them.

- “You’re my anchor,” he whispered, his dual voice cracking slightly. “You make me believe there’s still something good in me.” The thought of losing you wasn’t just painful; it felt like losing the last shred of humanity he had left.

- The next day, Harvey was unusually protective, his coin flipping idly between his fingers as he shadowed your every move. When you teased him about being overly cautious, he brushed it off with a half-smile. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his deeper worry.

- That night, as you curled up beside him, Harvey wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You’re the one thing in my life that doesn’t need a coin flip,” he admitted softly. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

- From then on, his duality softened slightly when it came to you. Both sides of Harvey Dent—man and monster—agreed on one thing: you were worth everything. And he wouldn’t let anyone take you from him.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward’s nightmares weren’t random; they were puzzles of his subconscious, riddled with hidden meanings and twisted scenarios. But this time, the riddle was cruelly simple: you were dead, taken from him in a moment of chaos he couldn’t control or predict. The answer to the nightmare was devastatingly clear—he couldn’t solve it.

- He woke in a cold sweat, his mind racing as if trying to piece together clues to prove the dream wasn’t real. When his eyes landed on you, still peacefully asleep beside him, he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his system.

- For once, Edward was at a loss for words. The nightmare had shaken him in a way few things could. He prided himself on his intellect, his ability to plan for every contingency, yet the thought of losing you felt like an unsolvable equation.

- “You’ve become my greatest mystery,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair as he watched you sleep. “How did you manage to make me feel this way?” His voice was tinged with frustration, but beneath it was an undeniable warmth.

- The next day, Edward was more attentive than usual, his riddles and taunts aimed at others rather than you. He stuck close, his sharp eyes scanning for any potential threat, though he masked his concern behind his usual arrogance.

- That night, as you curled up against him, Edward allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. “You’re the only thing in my life that doesn’t need a riddle to explain,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “And I’ll make sure no one ever takes you from me.”

- From that point on, Edward’s plans always included you at the center, his mind working tirelessly to ensure your safety. For a man obsessed with answers, you had become the only certainty in his life.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald’s nightmares were usually filled with power struggles and betrayal, but this one was personal. He saw you, his constant companion and solace, gunned down in a rival’s crossfire. The sight of your blood pooling beneath you was enough to send a chill through even his cold heart.

- He woke with a start, his usual composure shattered as he sat up, his breath heavy. His sharp eyes immediately sought you out, relief flooding him as he saw you beside him, alive and unharmed. But the nightmare had left its mark.

- Oswald prided himself on his control, yet the dream had revealed a vulnerability he couldn’t ignore. He sat in silence, his mind replaying the nightmare over and over, each iteration driving home just how much you meant to him.

- “You’re more valuable than all the riches in Gotham,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours, the gesture unusually tender for a man like him.

- The following day, Oswald’s protective instincts were in overdrive. He doubled your security, barking orders at his henchmen to ensure your safety. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You’re too important to risk.”

- That night, as you rested your head on his shoulder, Oswald finally let his walls down. “You’ve done the impossible,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve made the Penguin care about something other than power. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.”

- From then on, his love for you was evident in every action. For a man who thrived in Gotham’s cold, dark underworld, you were his one source of light—and he’d do whatever it took to keep you safe.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

Pt.3

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!