#joker x reader deadly voice

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Villains x Reader

You're the new hot and smart underling

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

The Joker

- From the moment you joined the Joker’s ranks, his interest was piqued. Your sharp mind and striking presence stood out amongst the usual riff-raff. “A diamond in the rough!” he declared with a manic grin. Though he initially treated you like any other henchperson, his curious glances and the way he leaned in during conversations hinted at deeper intrigue.

- The Joker quickly made it a point to test your intellect. He threw out riddles mid-conversation, asked for your input on his chaotic plans, and watched with delight as you matched his wit. When you pointed out a flaw in one of his schemes—something no one else dared to do—he clapped his hands and cackled. “I like you,” he said, the words dangerously lighthearted.

- He couldn’t resist pulling you into the spotlight, often assigning you the most high-profile tasks. “Let’s see what you’re really made of!” he’d say with a grin that sent chills down your spine. Success was met with a rare approval, while failure earned a manic lecture or a laugh that felt more threatening than amused.

- Over time, his obsession with you became clear. He’d show up unannounced while you worked, circling you like a predator and commenting on how “refreshingly unpredictable” you were. His attention was both a blessing and a curse, offering protection but also putting you in constant danger of his volatile whims.

- The other henchpeople noticed the Joker’s fixation on you, leading to whispers and jealousy. Some even tried to undermine you, but the Joker put an immediate stop to it. “Nobody touches my little genius,” he’d hiss, his voice icy before switching back to his signature grin.

- Despite his madness, there were moments where his attention bordered on genuine. He’d hand you a gift—a macabre joke of a trinket—and watch your reaction with keen interest. Yet, his affection always felt like a game, a dangerous dance where losing meant the stakes could turn deadly.

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley was instantly drawn to you when you joined the gang. “Ooh, fresh meat!” she teased, her Brooklyn accent thick with mischief. It didn’t take long for her to notice your sharp mind and how you carried yourself with confidence. “Smart and hot? You’re a triple threat, sugar!” she exclaimed, clearly intrigued.

- Harley loved testing your limits, throwing you into chaotic situations to see how you handled them. Whether it was a high-speed getaway or negotiating with rival criminals, she’d watch you with sparkling eyes, clapping her hands in glee when you exceeded expectations.

- Her flirtation was constant and shameless. She’d saunter up to you during planning sessions, twirling a strand of her blonde-and-pink hair. “Y’know, if I wasn’t with Mistah J, I’d have to snatch you up,” she’d say with a wink, though you couldn’t always tell how serious she was.

- As your competence became undeniable, Harley began to rely on you more and more. She’d drag you into her schemes, insisting, “You’re my good luck charm!” She’d giggle when things went awry but always trusted you to pull them back together.

- Harley wasn’t above showing off for you, either. During fights or heists, she’d go out of her way to make dramatic, acrobatic moves, casting a playful glance your way afterward. “Betcha didn’t know I could do that, huh?” she’d say, grinning ear to ear.

- Beneath her bubbly exterior, Harley grew genuinely attached to you. She’d seek you out during quiet moments, talking about everything from the stars to her favorite cartoons. “You’re somethin’ special, y’know?” she’d say softly, her tone unusually serious before covering it with a laugh.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Ivy noticed you the moment you walked in. She had an uncanny way of sensing power, and there was something about your intelligence and charisma that intrigued her. “You’re not like the rest of them,” she said with a sly smile, her green eyes piercing.

- She tested you in subtle ways, asking for your opinion on her environmental crusades or challenging you with complex tasks. When you provided thoughtful, insightful answers, she found herself impressed. “Hmm, perhaps you’re worth keeping around,” she mused, though the glimmer of approval in her gaze said more.

- Ivy quickly took you under her wing, ensuring you worked closely with her. She’d often call you to her greenhouse, watching as you moved carefully among her plants. “You have respect for life,” she’d note, almost to herself. Her approval felt rare and precious, like sunlight through the trees.

- Her fondness for you grew in small but significant ways. She’d casually offer you gifts—rare flowers or herbs—claiming they were “just leftovers.” When you thanked her, she’d wave it off, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her pleasure.

- Ivy’s protective instincts soon kicked in. If anyone in the organization dared to disrespect you, they’d find themselves tangled in vines before they could blink. “No one touches what’s mine,” she’d declare, her voice cold and commanding, though she never elaborated on the claim.

- Despite her aloof demeanor, Ivy valued your presence deeply. In quiet moments, she’d open up about her dreams of a better world, her voice soft and wistful. “You understand,” she’d say, almost vulnerable. “You see the beauty in the chaos, just like me.”

Bane

- Bane was initially skeptical of you. Beauty and intelligence were rare qualities among his recruits, and he wondered if you were too good to be true. “Prove your worth,” he demanded, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. His voice was calm but carried the weight of a challenge.

- You quickly earned his respect through your sharp strategies and unflinching determination. Bane valued strength, both physical and mental, and your ability to stay calm under pressure impressed him. “You are more capable than most,” he admitted, a rare compliment from the man who broke the Bat.

- Bane began involving you in higher-level plans, seeking your input and trusting your judgment. “You think like a tactician,” he observed, his dark eyes studying you intently. His approval felt earned, a testament to your hard work and resilience.

- Despite his stoic demeanor, Bane showed his care in subtle ways. He ensured you were well-protected during missions, assigning his most loyal soldiers to watch your back. “Your mind is a valuable asset,” he’d say, though his actions hinted at something more personal.

- Over time, Bane’s respect for you deepened into admiration. He found himself drawn to your unwavering determination and the way you carried yourself with quiet confidence. “You remind me of someone who fights for what they believe in,” he said once, his tone almost reverent.

- Bane’s connection to you became undeniable when he began sharing fragments of his past. “Strength is forged in pain,” he told you one night, his voice low and reflective. “You understand that. It’s why you belong here—with me.” His words carried a rare vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s first impression of you was clinical curiosity. Among the sea of his mindless minions, your sharp intelligence and composed demeanor were a breath of fresh air. He observed you silently for days, cataloging your behavior like a subject in his experiments. “Fascinating,” he murmured to himself when you solved a problem no one else could.

- He wasted no time putting your mind to the test, assigning you tasks meant to break weaker recruits. When you succeeded with ease, he became both intrigued and slightly unnerved. “You’re more resilient than I expected,” he remarked, his tone bordering on admiration, though his calculating eyes betrayed his constant evaluation.

- As you gained his respect, Jonathan began sharing his philosophical musings with you. “Fear,” he’d say, leaning closer, “is the only true motivator.” He watched your reactions intently, searching for a flicker of agreement or defiance. Your willingness to engage in these debates only solidified his growing fascination with you.

- Over time, he involved you in his experiments, valuing your input on the effects of his fear toxin. He’d watch you work with a rare, quiet intensity, occasionally breaking the silence to ask your opinion. “Tell me,” he said once, “what do you fear most?” The question lingered in the air, more personal than professional.

- Jonathan’s protectiveness over you grew subtly. If anyone questioned your methods or competence, he’d silence them with a single glare. “This one,” he’d say, his voice cold, “is not to be underestimated.” His approval came sparingly, but when given, it felt like a hard-earned triumph.

- Despite his detached nature, Jonathan found himself drawn to your presence in a way that surprised even him. During his quieter moments, he’d share fragments of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and vulnerability. “Perhaps,” he said one night, almost to himself, “fear isn’t the only thing that defines us.”

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey noticed you the moment you joined his organization. Half of him admired your intelligence and poise, while the other half—gruffer, more distrusting—demanded you prove your loyalty. “Let’s see how you handle yourself,” he said, flipping his coin. Heads, you were given a chance; tails, you were thrown into the fire.

- Your quick thinking and unshakable composure soon won over both sides of Harvey. He appreciated your ability to adapt to his volatile moods, navigating his dual nature with surprising ease. “You’re good,” he admitted one day, his scarred side smirking while the unscarred side gave a small nod of approval.

- Harvey began relying on you for more than just grunt work, bringing you into his inner circle. He’d consult you during planning sessions, flipping his coin before agreeing with your suggestions. “You’re smart,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “Almost too smart for your own good.”

- Despite his hardened exterior, Harvey showed glimpses of softness around you. On rare occasions, he’d let his guard down, speaking about the struggles of balancing his two selves. “You think it’s easy?” he asked one night, his voice raw. “Living with two voices in your head?” He didn’t expect an answer but seemed comforted by your understanding.

- His dual nature extended to how he treated you. On good days, he’d praise your work and share a drink with you, his charm shining through. On bad days, he’d lash out, only to apologize later. “You shouldn’t stick around someone like me,” he muttered once, his good side conflicted while his bad side growled, “But you will.”

- Over time, Harvey’s admiration for you turned into something deeper. He became fiercely protective, warning anyone who dared to question your loyalty or competence. “This one’s mine,” he’d say, the flip of his coin deciding whether the threat ended there—or escalated further.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward immediately gravitated toward you when you joined his crew. Your intelligence was obvious, and he couldn’t resist testing it. “Riddle me this,” he said with a smirk, throwing out puzzles and watching with delight as you solved them with ease. “Finally,” he exclaimed, “someone worthy of my brilliance!”

- He quickly made you his personal protégé, dragging you into his elaborate schemes and assigning you tasks that required both wit and precision. “Don’t disappoint me,” he warned, though the gleam in his eye suggested he didn’t expect you to. Your successes only fueled his ego, making him more confident in his choice.

- Edward loved showing off around you, often monologuing about his genius or presenting you with his latest riddles. He craved your approval, though he’d never admit it outright. “You see it, don’t you?” he’d ask, leaning closer. “How much smarter I am than everyone else?”

- As your bond grew, Edward became more possessive of your time and attention. He’d grow irritable if you worked with anyone else, muttering about how “inferior minds” didn’t deserve your talents. “You’re wasted on them,” he’d say, his tone dripping with disdain.

- Despite his arrogance, Edward valued your opinions deeply. He’d often ask for your input during planning sessions, genuinely considering your ideas. When you outsmarted him in a rare moment, he was equal parts annoyed and impressed. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbled, though his smile betrayed his pride in you.

- Beneath his bravado, Edward harbored a genuine fondness for you. In quieter moments, he’d confide in you about his insecurities, his voice softer and more vulnerable than you’d ever heard. “Do you think they’ll ever truly understand me?” he asked once, his question laced with an uncharacteristic hint of doubt.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald was skeptical when you first joined his ranks. He’d seen plenty of attractive recruits come and go, and he assumed you’d be no different. But when you demonstrated your sharp mind and ability to navigate his world, he quickly took notice. “Hmm,” he muttered, adjusting his monocle. “You might be more useful than you look.”

- He began assigning you more important tasks, watching closely to see how you handled yourself. When you not only met but exceeded his expectations, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “Well, well,” he said with a smirk. “It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

- Oswald had a flair for theatrics, and he loved dragging you into his schemes. He’d show off his wealth and power, often treating you to luxurious dinners or gifting you extravagant trinkets. “Consider it an investment,” he’d say, though his smug grin suggested otherwise.

- Over time, Oswald’s respect for you grew into admiration. He appreciated your loyalty and competence, valuing you as more than just another underling. “You’ve got potential,” he told you one night, his tone unusually sincere. “Stick with me, and you’ll go far.”

- Despite his ruthless nature, Oswald showed surprising protectiveness over you. If anyone dared to disrespect or threaten you, they’d find themselves at the mercy of his sharp-tipped umbrella. “No one crosses the Penguin,” he growled, his eyes cold. “Especially not someone under my wing.”

- Oswald’s attachment to you became evident in his quieter moments. He’d share stories of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and longing. “The world never gave me a chance,” he said once, his gaze distant. “But you—you’re different. You’ve got what it takes to survive.”

[overadores]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁thorns of love ౨ৎ lara raj

men, the most absurd of God's creature

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 poison ivy!lara x harley quinn!reader ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 headcanons!

.ᐟ cw: injuries, violence, kissing, seduction, partners in crime

So many people to kill...so little time

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who loves to give you plants 'cause you keep telling her it feels lonely whenever she goes out.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she sometimes use her pheromones whenever you two fight so that you could relax and let her explain everything.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she has a secret playlist 'bout you in her work laptop and she plays it whenever she misses you (which is always)

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who adores you—the only one immune to her toxins. during your heists, the moment you're hurt, your power surges, bodies dropping instantly. Lara cradles your face, whispering, "My deadly darling, they should know better than to touch what's mine." She ensures you never bleed, not out of fear—but because she loves watching you choose to kill.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara loves sharing facts about plant and you're just tuning her out when it gets too much

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara knows you love watching her plan—the way your eyes light up as she maps out escape routes, picks the perfect time, and lists tools like it’s an art form. She plays into it, sketching out heists with extra flair, just to see you grin. “Enjoying the show, yn?” she teases, smirking.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she seduce you by using her pheromones whenever you're mad at her or too busy for her.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where during heists, Lara, ever the strategist, keeps you in check with her chlorokinesis. The moment they start rambling or giggling too loud, Lara’s vines gently wrap around their mouth, silencing them with an exasperated yet fond look. “Quiet, love,” she whispers. “Unless you want every guard in Gotham on us.” you just grin behind the leaves.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who loves kissing your wounds after the heist cause its her way by healing you.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she sings to you everytime you can't sleep.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who almost kills joker with her poison emission when he tried manipulating you to join him again.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where as soon as Batman’s batarang sliced your arm, Lara’s eyes darkened with fury. Vines shot from the ground, wrapping around the Dark Knight, tightening with her every breath. "Don’t hurt my baby," she hissed, stepping in front of you like a shield. Her fingers traced your wound, her touch gentle despite the rage burning in her veins. "You okay, love?" she whispered, voice soft for you alone. Batman struggled, but Lara's wrath was an unyielding force of nature.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where you gear up for the mission—with the squad, tightening your gloves and Lara grabs your wrist, pulling you close. Her emerald eyes flicker with worry, lips parted as if debating something—then, without warning, she crashes her lips onto yours. The kiss is deep, almost desperate, her fingers curling into your collar. "Come back to me, okay?" she murmurs against your lips, her voice softer than usual. With a smirk, you wink. "Anything for you, Red." Then, you're gone.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who always insists on trying to lift your mallet, even though she knows she can’t. She grips the handle, straining for a moment before sighing. Then, with a sly smirk, she extends her vines, wrapping them around the mallet and swinging it effortlessly. You lean against the wall, watching in amusement as she twirls it like it weighs nothing.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where after every date, she guides you onto the balcony, her fingers laced with yours. The moonlight spills over her as she lifts her hands, coaxing delicate blooms to life around you. Petals unfurl, vines curl along the railing, and the air fills with the scent of fresh roses. She twirls you into her arms, her lips brushing your ear. "Dance with me, love," she whispers, swaying you beneath the stars, her heart blooming only for you.

a/n: mystique megan next !!

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Crazy in Love | Han Jisung

Saw a post awhile back saying that they wanted to see a Jisung/Joker smut. I wrote this months ago but wasn't sure how I felt about it so it's just been sitting in my drafts. I wouldn't really say there's a plot with this one.

Synopsis: You're bored and wanna play. Who cares if J.One is in a meeting for world domination? It's never stopped you before. He'll ruin your makeup and end lives just fine.

Pairings: Crime boss Jisung x Female Reader

Content Includes: smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, Dom Jisung...sort of?, slight degradation and name calling, brief mention of violence and guns, hair pulling, I'm sure I forgot something lol

Want more smut? Follow the 🍌

“Mista J!” you sing-song, skipping into the room wearing nothing but a red and black lace bra and leather shorts too short to be considered anything but underwear.

Jisung sits surrounded by his worthless minions at the head of the table. They all pretend you don't exist, of course. Not one eye looks in your direction; if they did… well, their brains would decorate these four walls. Like the king he is, Jisung sits on a throne of premium leather that you were handed when you walked into the store. Really, the fancy schmancy furniture store just gave you whatever you pointed at. Okay, fine, maybe it had something to do with the two double-barrel sawed-off shotguns you held, but that's beside the point.

There's nothing too good for your Jisungie. There's not a thing you wouldn't do for this man. You would die for him, you would kill for him, raise hell with him, making the city cower as king and queen. You love every moment of it. Straddling and looking pretty on Jisung's lap, you kiss him. It’s sweet on your end, but he takes it a step further, making it hot and messy, drawing porn-worthy moans from you.

"Mmm, Mista J.One… If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to fuck me on this table right in front of everyone," you tease, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He responds with a wicked, deadly grin that sends a rush of heat to your core.

"Lovely, I had to kill at least a dozen men after the last time. I can't risk that happening now, can I, pet?" he says, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flick up to the center of the room where his men sit, the intensity of his gaze daring any of them to look in your direction.

The way he glares, daring anyone to even glance at you, thrills you to your core. The reckless and dangerous aura he exudes turns you on, knowing he's willing to burn the entire world down for you, taking down anyone who dares to look at you. You pout and wiggle your hips, a soft whine escaping your lips as you feel him, hard and ready, pressing against you.

“Let me play, baby,” you whisper, leaning into him and licking the heart-shaped spider web tattoo on his neck.

He groans and shivers, bucking his hips up, making you squeal with delight and lust as his zipper brushes against your cunt. The damned leather is getting in the way of feeling more than you want, but that's okay; your mind is set on something bigger and better. You wriggle again, and he growls, the sound reverberating deep within you. Any other person would be scared, but you eat it up, craving more.

“What are you waiting for, lovely? Get on your knees for me,” he demands, his voice soft and dark, like feathers on a raven.

You almost fly up from his lap with excitement, hurrying to kneel between his thighs, looking up at him through your long lashes. The thing about this throne that caught your eye was the little footrest it came with. It's your favorite spot. Some days you sit there just waiting for him to use you any way he pleases. Your excited, maniacal giggles echo throughout the room as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. Your breasts bounce free from their confines, and you swing the garment around your head like a lasso, letting it fly free. You have no clue where it lands, but from the sounds of it, it seems to have landed on some poor guy's head.

Jisung smirks and cocks his head to the side, slowly looking in the direction of the unfortunate soul. "Oopsie," you whisper, reaching out to unwrap the present in front of you.

When Ji is satisfied that the man won't move, he looks down at you with his cock in your hands. You marvel at the size, as always, appreciating him, worshiping every inch of him. With loose fingers, you guide your hand up the length of his cock, feeling the heat radiate from the impressive muscle. Your mouth waters in anticipation and you smile up at him.

"Oh, Mista J, you're so hard for y/n." you purr, your mouth getting closer to the head of Jisung's cock.

The leather squeaks when he grips the arm of the chair, letting you take the lead... for now. You are his queen, after all—his beautiful nightmare. Damn it, if he didn’t have to go through with this fucking meeting, you would be bent over the table, drooling while he pounded his cock into every one of your fucking holes. Jisung is pissed, but only a little. These fuckers in the room better not dare look at you while his trigger finger is itchy.

With a wave of his hand, the meeting resumes, and you can hear the men shift uncomfortably, speaking about whatever plan for world domination Jisung's genius mind concocted. You ignore it all, too focused on watching the precum increase the more you play with Ji’s cock. So much more fun than any video game you were playing moments ago. You need him to make a mess of your makeup.

Every touch, every stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through both of you. Jisung’s eyes, dark and intense, flicker with a blend of rage and lust as he watches you. He’s a volcano on the verge of eruption, held back by the thinnest thread of control. Your breath shakes as you feel the weight of his cock in your hand, the slickness of his precum making each movement smoother, more urgent.

He exhales sharply, a barely audible groan escaping his lips. The power you hold over him in this moment is exhilarating, each pump of your hand drawing a reaction from him.

"Such a pretty cock you have, Ji," you whisper, blowing cool air over him. You watch with delight as he makes it bounce for you, the sight eliciting a soft, approving hum from your lips.

More crazed laughter from you rings out through the room, and Jisung loves it. He revels in the way you make the men in the room flinch. They're just dying to look at you, their fear mingling with desire.

"All the better to fuck your pretty mouth with, y/n, and that pretty cunt of yours," he replies, putting a crude emphasis on the word "cunt" and laughing loudly.

His laughter is just as insane as yours, but far more psychotic and unhinged. That's because he is certifiably insane. You would know; you're the one who diagnosed him. His psychosis, however, makes you feel safe. It's almost as if it connects you two in a way that psychology cannot explain. The two of you put on a show for the men in the room, mentally synchronized and wondering who will be the first to break. Knowing that cold steel is right underneath the chair, Jisung will make quick work of eliminating the weakest one.

When you flick your tongue out to lap up the liquid that now coats the tip of his cock, he shudders and leans his head back, licking his lips. The voices around the room waver, but they continue as if you aren't here. Good boys. Now it's time for Jisung to be a good boy for you and lose his mind. You gasp in delight and lick your lips, humming.

“Mmm, so tasty. Whaddya say, J One? Can I be greedy tonight?” Batting your lashes up at him, you grin.

His hand grabs the back of your neck tightly, but not uncomfortably, and he leans down, getting closer to your ear.

“Take it all and leave no drop behind, and you'll get a reward for being so good.” He slams his mouth onto yours in a crushing kiss, both physically and spiritually.

He leans back, fingers massaging your scalp, petting you while watching whatever presentation his men are rambling about. Your tongue gets to work, starting at the base, trailing up and over every ridge and vein along his cock. You lick every surface, coating him and savoring how his hands begin to become less caressing and more rough. The sound of voices fades into the background. All your focus is on Jisung and his cock now.

Heavy and warm against your tongue, you take him deeper and deeper, further than you've ever allowed yourself to go. He lets out a slow, deep groan and fists your hair when the head of his cock presses against the back of your throat, and you keep going. It's hard to focus on your breathing, to keep it steady and even, when he's making those sounds. You've never heard him sound as desperate as he does now. He doesn't care who hears him or sees him vulnerable like this though. Only an idiot would use this moment against him.

The feel of his fingers tightening in your hair, the taste of him on your tongue, the vibrations of his groans echoing through your body, it's better than any psychedelic drug in the world to you. You can feel the tension in his thigh muscles, the way his hips involuntarily twitch, seeking more of the pleasure you're giving him. Jisung's breaths become ragged, his control slipping with each movement of your tongue and each press of your lips.

“Shit, lovely. Fuck, mm.” he whispers, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them again to survey the room.

You know there's no way he's paying attention to anything but your lips wrapped around him, and you're right. Jisung couldn't care less if anyone was watching; he'd check the footage from the cameras later and deal with anyone who thought it was a good idea to watch you suck him off. For now, he loves how amazing you feel as you force his cock deeper down your throat. He doesn't mean to make the noises he does, but how could he hold them back when his queen loves hearing him be so vocal? He can feel your smirk, knowing that you have him wrapped around your finger.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, savoring the taste and the way his body tenses with each movement. Every moan and groan that escapes his lips fuels your determination to take him deeper, to push him further into ecstasy. His hands fist your hair more gripping it tightly, to steel himself against the overwhelming pleasure.

"That's my lovely baby. Ah—yeah, gonna fuck you till you can't stand later, y/n. Do you hear me?"

You hum in response, the vibration of your lips sending shivers through his body. He whines and growls, balling his free hand into a tight fist, so tight that his knuckles start to turn white.

"Fuck, babe… gah!" He stiffens his legs, forcing himself not to buck up and make you choke on his length. He wants to wait until you've taken him all the way down your throat for that. "Ke-keep going. Yeah, nice and s... s-slow," he continues in a husky, breathy whisper.

Once you have every inch of him in your mouth, he waits for you to pull up a couple of inches before forcing your head back down. You gag and cough as he repeats the motion again and again. Your eyes water, and tears stream down your face from the relentless thrusting of his cock hitting your throat. He's fucking your face now, using your mouth like a fleshlight, controlling you by your hair. And you're soaking through your panties, coating the leather shorts with your arousal.

“Fuck, mm! Y/n... wrap your lips tighter. Mhm, just like that, baby. That's a good girl.”

You want to rub your clit so badly, but you'll topple over backward if you let go of the hold you have on Jisung's thighs. So, you squeeze your legs together tightly, releasing over and over while Ji has his way with you. His pre-cum oozes down your throat, steadily leaking like a faucet. The friction you're creating feels so good you could cum just from that. Your moans vibrate more, sending him into a feral frenzy. He feels his balls tighten, and he gets louder, grunting each time he rams his cock down your throat.

Jisung filling your mouth completely so harsh and fast is overwhelming. You can taste the salty tang of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva, creating a slick, warmth that coats your tongue. Each thrust makes your pussy ache with need, the pressure in your core building feeling almost unbearable. The heat of his body, the firm grip on your hair, makes your head spin.

His thrusts become more erratic and his grunts turn into desperate moans. You can feel the pulse of his cock on your tongue, the way it twitches and hardens even more.

“Daddy's little monster sucks cock so good. Isn't that right, gentlemen?!” Jisung questions loudly. A few agree hesitantly, not knowing how to answer, and those few would be gone by morning.

Why? Because how would they know that you're good if they weren't watching your performance? Jisung is a smart man; most psychopaths are. With a smirk and a moan, he thrusts upwards while pushing your head down into his lap. Your makeup is a mess, just the way you wanted. Tear streaks run down your face, and you're satisfied with your appearance. You'll be even more satisfied when he cums and even more so when he fucks you later.

“Every. Drop. Y/n. Swallow every fucking drop I'm about to give you. You ready, baby? I'm so fucking close.” he grinds out, gritting his teeth and his grip on your hair tightens painfully making you wince.

His hips jerk as he forces you down, the rough fabric of his pants scratching your cheeks, adding to your ruined face. Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his increasingly erratic thrusts. The sounds of his grunts and your muffled moans create a symphony of depravity echoing off the walls.

Jisung's mind is a funhouse of madness. If you were to open it up right now, the maniac's mind would be full of murder, mayhem, and you. It's a joke the way you make him feel—the best joke ever. How hilarious it is that a woman like you can make him weak, make him shiver all over, and become a moaning, whining mess. Your lips look so tantalizingly puffed out around him he almost wants to coat them with his cum, but he did say for you to swallow every drop, and he's a man of his word. He sees everything through, no matter how tempting it is. The humming you're doing on his cock is driving him madder than he already is. Oh god, do your lips feel so good to him. Jisung growls deep in his throat, a guttural sound that signals his impending climax.

“Take it, baby. Take it, y/n. Right. Fucking. Now. Oh, fuck!” His hands force your head down as he shoots rope after rope after rope of cum down your throat.

It hits the back of your throat forcefully and pools there until you relax, letting the warm, salty liquid easily go down. You swallow every drop he gives you, just like he told you to, the action drawing a final shuddering moan from him. Another growl and he's quickly pulling your head back and picking you up. You gasp for air as he spins you around and lays your stomach flat against the hard white surface of the table.

“GET OUT!” he yells, and every man in the room scatters. The one with your bra still on his head tosses it onto the table with shaky hands, sporting a very uncomfortable-looking hard-on. “Fuck if I'm waiting to fuck you.”

Your tight shorts are forced down roughly, and he rams his cock into your cunt, making you scream. He’s rough, really rough, and his thrusts are fast, creating a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain—mix the two, and you've got the base of you and Ji’s relationship.

“Harder, Jisung, ah! Fuck me harder, please.” you beg him, and he laughs maniacally again.

He smacks your ass before reaching around and grabbing you by the neck. The slapping sounds of your bodies coming together are so loud that they cover up your yelps of pain when he does as you asked. It hurts so good you become incoherent; you don't even hear Jisung when he says that this will be all you're good for. It's a joke, his best yet if he's honest with himself, which he won't be. He'll pretend that he keeps you around just to fuck but he knows Gotham only has one queen, and that's you. He just doesn't want to admit that the way your cunt holds him and pulls him in, is the reason for his insanity now.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum again, y/n.” his legs tremble with each long stroke inside you.

“C-cum, Jisung! Oh god, I'm there. Right… right…” Inhaling deeply, you let go, moaning loudly cumming on Jisung's cock and he follows you, filling your cunt.

“That’s my lovely—mmph! Filling your pussy to the brim. My sweet, deranged cum slut.” He pulls you back into him by your throat, finding your mouth and placing a possessive kiss on your lips. “Surrender your existence to me, y/n and let’s watch the world burn, darling.”

“Everything that I am, Mista J you already own. Let the ashes rain, baby!” You throw your head back with a crazed laugh and Jisung joins you, holding you tight in his arms.

✧ 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱 ✧

@resi4skz @3rachasninja @moonlightndaydreams @rylea08 @hanjiphile @krayzieestay @oddracha @ldysmfrst

•If you want to be tagged in future posts let me know here•

[x-gabrielle-x]

Withered Cards | III

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

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

Summary: Despite the many different 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

"Mistakes are not something you can afford to make, Jason," Bruce commented, though his gaze was trained on the screen before him. "I told you this was an intel mission. You should have waited for my queue."

Jason adjusted his position on the chair he was currently sat on, his gaze burning into Bruce's back the longer he continued to stare at the projective computer before him. The tape that he had collected from the mission played on repeat, and truthfully, it was becoming painful for Jason having to rewatch it over and over.

Yes, he had been given strict orders to merely stay hidden within the shadows and report back to Batman with the intel he was instructed to gather, but Jason wanted to do more than be a sidekick to gather information.

“How was that a mistake?” He retorted, pointing to the screen. “If I hadn’t gone, you would have never known what was happening down there.”

Finally, Bruce turned in his chair, his voice just as deep as always. Like a parent scolding his child - which was true to an extent.

"You're telling me that you found out what that whole ordeal was about?" He questioned, gesturing a hand to the screen. "Because it sure doesn't look like you do."

It angered Jason more than he would have liked to admit that Bruce was mostly right. The most Jason knew was that the Joker was up to something, but when was he not? The best possible answer he got was that he has an alliance of some sort. You seemed to be around his age, possibly younger, and yet you were one of the most skilled fighters he's fought. You were experienced, and no doubt deadly.

His nose ached from the harsh punch that you had thrown, the wet rag that was now soaked with crimson blood was discarded beside him.

When Bruce noticed his silence, he continued to ignore him from then on. His fingers dancing along the computer and leaving an uncomfortable silence that Jason wished to break.

Alfred walked in with a tray of coffee; something Bruce had waved him off to go and grab whilst he worked. Whilst the silence lingered, Alfred's gaze flickered up to the screen of the masked girl.

"I do not recognize this criminal," Alfred spoke as he settled the tray down. "Have we seen this girl before?"

Bruce shook his head, a frown etched on his features. "No, but there have been witnesses. Apparently, she's only shown up around Gotham the past two months."

Alfred hummed. “And what does this criminal do, exactly?”

Bruce pushed his body away from the desk with a long sigh, his brows still pinched into a deep frown as his hand dragged down his face. “Jason’s body cam just managed to pick up a little of their conversation before she ran off. The Joker is in on this, too. She knows him, and well.”

Jason's curiosity was piqued. What was the Joker's intentions, now? Surely it was another scheme to lure Batman into a trap.

“Perhaps another laughing gas?” Alfred suggested as he glanced over at Jason, gesturing toward the tea as he offered to pour some, but Jason shook his head.

"Not a laughing gas," Jason concluded, digging into the suit that he still wore. He pulled out the familiar vial that he had managed to snatch from the masked girl, holding it up for everybody's view. "I'm thinking maybe a drug, or maybe some sort of crazy mutation serum!" He looked between the two, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Bruce remained silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving the vial in his son's hand. Jason was expecting praise, a congratulations, maybe even a pat on the back and allowed more freedom whilst on patrol. But Bruce's face remained stoic.

"Jason," he started, tone very far from what he had expected. Was it anger? Disappointment? Shock?

He was quick to saunter over and take the vial from his hand, analyzing it carefully as he twisted it in his grasp.

With a shake of his head, his frown deepened. If that were even possible. He placed the vial carefully onto the desk beside the computer.

"You're too reckless," he began. "Not only did you go against my orders, but now you are involved with a crime much deeper than what you can handle. You've put yourself in danger. And not only yourself," he pointed to the screen again. "But you got her in danger, too."

Jason felt his anger boil, ready to spill over any second. Could Bruce not see his success for once? Could he not give him the approval he desperately wished for? It was risky, but he had got the job done.

"I did what I had to," he defended, the anger evident in his voice as he took a step closer.

Bruce quickly snapped back. "And what you did was wrong."

A pause.

"Next time something like this happens, you follow my order... otherwise the title of Robin goes to somebody else."

In the heat of his rage, Jason stormed past both Bruce and Alfred and made his way out of the Batcave, cape flowing behind him with every long stride. Before the door had slammed shut, he just managed to hear a little of Alfred's voice.

"They're both just children, Master Wayne," he tried. "Much like you once were."

"I can't have him making more mistakes."

A harsh slap landed against your cheek, your head snapping to the side from the force. The burning sensation left behind caused for your eyes to sting with tears, your vision blurred.

His maniacal laughter was all you could hear despite the ringing in your ears, and you didn't fail to notice the very evident annoyance behind each deep inhale of laughter.

"I can't believe it!" Joker paced. "You really let that little rodent slip past your fingers, just like that? My, my, I might have placed just a little too much faith in you."

He crouched down before you, masking a frown as his thumb came up to swipe the blood from your lip. Your tongue darted out to swipe at the cut he had left, the metallic taste lingering in your mouth.

"I must say I am very disappointed," Joker hummed, but oddly enough his hand came to rest on your shoulder, like an odd way of comforting. "But that's why there's always room to learn from mistakes!"

The vial that you were sent to retrieve merely a few hours ago was no longer tucked away safely in your pocket.

You had only realized once you were in front of Joker's latest warehouse that he used as a current hideout, your hands searching every pocket, each shoe, in search for the vial. Robin had managed to slip it out without you noticing, and it enraged you.

He was fast, skilled, and very obviously sly. Although it was a tough fight, it brought some adrenaline and excitement into your night. Something you had craved for a while.

Joker clicked his tongue in thought, now sat on a torn couch across from you with his leg propped up on his knee.

"You'll make it up to me, right, my little clown?" his tone was almost mocking. "Perhaps next time you might run into the little birdy again, oh, that would spice things up!"

You inhaled a shaky breath. "I'll get it back," you said, but he waved you off.

"Nah, I'll just get the doc to make me a new one. Although, we can't afford any more mistakes now, can we, Y/N?"

He looked at you expectingly, dread washing over you the longer his gaze pierced your own.

"No, we can't."

"That's my girl!" He clapped his hands. "Harley! Come get the poor girl cleaned up, will ya? She looks like she's been through hell!" He let out a loud cackle at what he considered a joke, slapping his knee.

Harley's head popped from around the corner of the cracked wall, pigtails swinging with every movement she made. With one look at you, she was rushing over.

"Puddin, what happened?" She practically squealed, ushering you to stand up, though the small smile never left her lips. "Oh dear, let's get you all nice and cleaned up!"

The bathroom that she had practically dragged you into smelt of urine and had broken tiles scattered across the floor. Mold was growing along the ceiling and puddles of water crowded at the base of the sink. You had to hold back the look of disgust when Harley took a small rag and wet it under some water.

It wasn't long until Harley was finally finished with dabbing your split lip with the cold water and tending to the few cuts you had littered over your flesh. It was a poorly done job, but the moment you had got to step into your own small room - a storage space that barely managed to fit the worn mattress you used to sleep on, you were instantly flopping down.

It was quiet and dark, but nothing that you weren't already used to. You enjoyed having some time away from the two clowns, after all.

Looking over, you reached for the same small bear that you've kept over the years, only now it wasn't as soft as it used to be, and the familiar smell of your old home was gone from the fur. Instead, it was now covered in dirt and grime. A button had been sewn on poorly as an eye after the last had fallen off, and its right arm was barely hanging on by a thread. Still, you carefully held it against your body as you laid on your side, alone and tense.

Your mind refused to settle, thoughts swarming with the Robin boy who had managed to make your night go from alright to horrific in only a few hours.

He had outplayed you - tricked you - and still somehow, he had managed to get your mind swimming. Your fight was oddly thrilling, and it confused you with his cocky comments. Batman was nowhere to be seen, meaning that Robin had let you go. Why?

Your knuckles had tightened their hold on the bear, a reminder of your life before any of this had happened. You didn't dwell on it, knowing that there was no way back. But the sadness lingered once you buried your face into the soft fur, allowing for the sleep to catch up to you. As usual it was never a peaceful one, but instead filled with nightmares and an all too familiar wide grin.

@annabellelee @stormz369

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

[dark-l-angel]

Jason but his girlfriend was kidnapped instead of him. She become crazy (because Jason didn't come to save her but in fact he couldn't get into the place where she was being held, and when he come it too late) and become a villain, Joker's right hand or sth like that. Please please please THANK YOUUUU

Oh I'm not crying.. something just got inside my eye 😭💔

Betrayal

Jason todd x reader

The night hung heavy over Gotham City, a shroud of darkness pierced only by the flickering lights of neon signs and the distant glow of streetlamps. Red Hood prowled the rooftops with practiced ease, his mind focused yet burdened with memories he could never shake.

It had been months since y/n, his girlfriend, was taken. The anguish of that night still gnawed at Jason's soul, the bitter taste of failure and helplessness lingering like a curse. He had tracked every lead, chased every whisper in the city's underbelly, but he had been too late. By the time he breached the compound where they held her, y/n was gone—physically freed but forever changed.

She had emerged not as y/n, but as Nightshade—a new persona cloaked in darkness and bitterness. Her once vibrant eyes now held a cold, calculating gleam as she aligned herself with Gotham's most feared: the Joker.

Tonight, their paths crossed once more amid the chaos of a Joker-led heist at Gotham's First National Bank. Red Hood moved swiftly, dispatching Joker's goons with lethal precision, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. And there she was, Nightshade, a shadow among shadows, her form sleek and deadly as she moved with lethal grace.

Their eyes locked across the smoke-filled bank lobby, a silent exchange of pain and accusation. Jason's heart clenched as he saw the gleam of recognition in her eyes—a flicker of the woman he had loved, the woman that he had no problem to dirt his hands for, the one who was ready to go the bottom and hell for, was now buried beneath layers of betrayal and fury.

Their fight was inevitable, a collision of past promises and present betrayals. Nightshade was agile and ruthless, her movements fueled by vengeance and the remnants of shattered trust. Red Hood fought with restraint, each blow weighted with regret and hope��hope that somewhere beneath the mask of Nightshade, y/n still lingered.

As punches and kicks echoed in the cavernous bank, memories surfaced like ghosts: laughter shared over dinners, the long kisses in the quiet of night, dreams whispered in the warmth of their shared bed. Jason fought not just against Nightshade but against the inevitability of their tragic tale—a hero and a fallen lover, caught in a dance of light and darkness.

Finally, exhaustion settled over them both, their breaths ragged, bodies bruised. Nightshade stood defiantly, her gaze defiant yet haunted. "You could have saved me," she spat, her voice a mix of accusation and sorrow.

Jason took his mask off, revealing eyes haunted by guilt and determination. "I tried.." he replied softly, each word heavy with the weight of their shattered dreams. "But I couldn't.. I've betrayed you, i was the reason of your suffering, if i didn't lose hope, none of all of this would happen to you." Tears started falling down from jason's eyes..

Silence enveloped them as Gotham's sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the approach of the GCPD. Nightshade glanced once more at Jason, a flicker of doubt crossing her mask. Then, with a graceful leap, she vanished into the night, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts and regrets.

As dawn broke over Gotham, Red Hood stood amidst the wreckage of the bank, the echoes of their fight still reverberating in his mind. Y/n was out there, a shadow among shadows, a reminder of love lost and the relentless pursuit of redemption.

And as the city awakened to another day, Jason Todd vowed to never stop searching—for justice, for peace, and perhaps, in the depths of Gotham's darkness, for a flicker of the woman he had once loved.

☆ I hope you like it ☆

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

The first gif, is cause its the standoff, and also Caesar with the heart eyes for Joker, and the second gif because I cant find a gif of them running. Dressrosa really do be bringing out the passion and action.

Chapter 26: Doflamingo’s Deadly Game

A/N: We are back with another chapter! I truly cant wait for you guys to read this one, Chapter 27 is done and Im currently working on chapter 28. Thank you guys so much for liking, commenting, reblogging, and interacting!. I also have a special chapter cooking for Sabo and Y/N and what went down during those two years... We have some good stuff coming up, also dont forget to like chapter 25 also! And without further a do lets get to it and let the adventure begin!

Word Count: 5.1K 

Sanji x Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One piece x Reader 

Laws POV… 

Doflamingo laughed softly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Better hurry, Law. She won’t last much longer.”

We stood locked in a three-way standoff: Admiral Fujitora and his men on one side, Doflamingo opposite me, and Caesar still pathetically at my side. The air was thick with tension, a clash waiting to erupt. Caesar turned, frantic as ever, babbling in a desperate plea.

"Joker! Make him pay for this! And also the prin—"

Without hesitation, I grabbed him by the scarf, choking off his words as I dragged him closer. “The deal’s off, Doflamingo!” My voice was sharp, resolute. There was no going back now.

Doflamingo’s menacing laugh echoed through the battlefield. “I haven’t seen you in ten years, Law. Show your old boss some respect.” His grin widened, dark and unforgiving. “As for Caesar, you know how valuable he is to me. I need him back.”

“Ohh, Joker, you do care!” Caesar swooned beside me, completely missing the gravity of the situation.

One of the Marines spoke up, eyes shifting between the parties. “Admiral, it appears Law brought in Caesar Clown for a trade-off.”

Fujitora nodded, the weight of his presence almost palpable. “Ah, yes. The scientist responsible for that poison gas. A tricky situation... If he works for one of the Seven Warlords, he might be granted amnesty.” His brow furrowed as he weighed the situation. “This is delicate.”

Doflamingo chuckled, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “They say you and Ryokugyu are forces to be reckoned with on the battlefield.”

“Sir, you flatter me,” Fujitora responded, calm but wary.

“Cut the crap. I don’t need praises,” Doflamingo spat, growing impatient. His smile twisted into something more sinister. 

“I’m having a little trouble unraveling the situation here, but it seems to me that as a Warlord, you’re doing things that go beyond your authority... like this fellow over here calling you Joker.”

Fujitora’s voice remained steady, though there was a hint of warning beneath it. 

“If you’re really trying to take me down, be ready to dirty your hands. It’ll take a mountain of evidence. Now... what do you plan to do about Law?” 

Doflamingo’s eyes glinted with dangerous intent as he turned his gaze back to me. His laughter stopped, and the battlefield grew even colder in his silence. “If you’re referring to the news about your alliance with the Straw Hats, then yes, he’s guilty.” Fujitora’s voice was calm but firm, the weight of his words unmistakable. “So tell me, Law—is he simply your subordinate, or an ally? The answer will determine whether you both are guilty. If so, that means we’ll arrest you... and the Straw Hats.”

“What kind of excuse is that?!” Caesar shrieked, his voice trembling. “So all he has to do is lie, and he’s scot-free?”

My mind raced. Damn it. My plan had completely fallen apart. The Navy was here, and now I was the target. I glanced around, feeling the weight of every decision. I can’t let the team in Dressrosa get caught up in this. If I lie, it’ll only make things worse. I have to make a stand, here and now.

I took a deep breath and shouted, “It’s true! The Straw Hats aren’t working under me. We’re equals in this alliance!”

“You just have to make things more difficult, don’t you, Law?” Doflamingo’s laugh rang out, filled with cruel amusement. “Well then, it’s settled. You’re guilty. But that won’t be the only thing making headlines tomorrow.”

Fujitora’s face remained unreadable, but the air around him shifted. Suddenly, an immense pressure bore down on us, the ground beneath us trembling. “Consider this your sentence,” Fujitora said calmly as the sky darkened. From above, a massive meteor hurtled toward us.

The Marines scattered in panic, and Caesar scrambled for cover, but I stood my ground. “Room!” I yelled, extending my hand. The space around me warped as I sliced the meteor in half, the debris crashing harmlessly around us. When the dust settled, all three of us stood in our original spots, a deep crack running through the battlefield like a scar.

“Even a blind man couldn’t miss that,” I muttered, still catching my breath.

“Ah, pardon me,” Fujitora said with a calm smile. “Just a small test.”

My heart pounded, but there was no room for hesitation. Fujitora continued, “Now, Law... you’re a criminal, which means I’ll have to arrest you.”

Doflamingo's grin widened as he watched the chaos unfold. “What now, Law? You’re not going to run, are you? You won’t get far in my kingdom.”

I gritted my teeth, my mind scrambling for a solution. I’ve got to think of something—fast.

Sanji POV… 

The streets of Dressrosa were a blur as I raced forward, the pounding of my heart drowning out everything else. Violet was right behind me, her soft footsteps barely audible over the chaos. But even with her so close, my mind was elsewhere—on Y/N. I couldn’t stop picturing her trapped in Doflamingo’s web, and it was driving me crazy. Every second I wasn’t with her felt like a second too long.

With shaky hands, I grabbed my transponder snail and frantically dialed. “Franky,” I called out the moment he picked up, my voice tight with urgency. “Where’s Y/N? Have you seen her?”

Franky’s voice came through, calm but direct. “I’m heading to the flower field.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, confusion mixing with my frustration. “The flower field? Why there of all places?”

Franky’s tone sharpened, clearly not in the mood for my questions. “And where the hell have you been, huh?”

I hesitated, casting a quick glance at Violet, her presence reminding me why I’d been gone. “I was… falling in love,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. Violet smiled at me, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding that almost made me forget the urgency of the moment. Almost.

But Franky’s laughter brought me crashing back. “Ah, so you’ve moved on, huh? Guess Y/N’s not on your mind anymore? I’ll be sure to let the others know there's less of a competition now!”

His words hit harder than I expected, and I could feel my chest tighten. Even with Violet by my side, Y/N was still there, lingering in my thoughts. No matter what Franky thought, I hadn’t forgotten about her. I couldn’t. Not with the danger she was in.

“Franky, cut the crap,” I snapped, my voice cold. “We’ve got bigger things to deal with. Just tell me if you’ve seen Y/N.”

“Honestly, I haven’t since we separated,” Franky admitted.

“Crap, we need to find her and fast!” My mind raced with the possibilities of what Doflamingo could be planning. Franky continued, “By the way, I also know where the factory is, but it won’t be easy. There’s a whole thing about it.”

“We’ll be lucky if we even make it out alive,” I muttered under my breath, frustration and urgency mixing together.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about Doflamingo’s plan,” Franky replied. “We walked right into that trap. But just because we’re in deep now doesn’t mean we can’t salvage the operation. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. We can still do some serious damage.”

"Alright," I said, trying to focus, “just meet me at the flower field, and we’ll work things out.”

Franky chuckled, “What the hell is that place? Sounds like something out of a fairy tale!”

I couldn’t help the irritation creeping into my voice. "By the way, I’m worried about Y/N. With Doflamingo’s plan, things are getting worse. And I’m also worried about Nami!”

Franky’s voice softened a bit. “Don’t worry, Y/N’s tough as nails. And so is Nami. They’ll be fine, Sanji. You’ve got to have some faith. We just need to find Y/N before Doflamingo does. As for Nami, she’s got Brook and monster Chopper watching her back.”

I opened my mouth to respond when a commotion broke out around us. A crowd had gathered, watching something on a large screen. I glanced over and froze. “Hey! What’s going on there?” I spotted Luffy on the screen, inside the Coliseum, fighting.

“Franky, why the hell is Luffy fighting?!” I demanded, my frustration spiking again.

“Oh, yeah,” Franky said, as if just remembering. “He’s fighting in some big tournament. I forgot to mention it.”

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “Why the hell did you leave him alone? You know damn well he can’t be trusted on his own!”

Franky didn’t miss a beat. “Hey, you’re one to talk. You lost Zoro and Y/N!”

I clenched my fists, frustrated, but Franky wasn’t wrong. Violet, standing close to me, tensed. Her eyes darted around as if sensing danger before she spoke. "Blackleg, I have to leave. My men have found me. You and your crew are focused on getting to the factory—here, take this." She quickly handed me a folded piece of paper. “It’s disguised as a toy factory.”

I grabbed the map, my heart pounding. "No, you can’t go! If you’ve helped me this far, there’s no turning back!" I protested, desperation creeping into my voice. The thought of her walking away now—after everything—was unbearable.

“It’s too late for me,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight of resignation. “The executives already know I’ve betrayed the family. I’m doomed.”

“Violet, wait!” I reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “The western gate—meet me there and stay hidden. That’s where our crew’s rendezvous point is. I swear, I’ll get you out. No matter the cost.”

She looked at me, her eyes softening, filled with both care and sorrow. There was something deeper in that gaze, something that made my chest tighten. “Hopeless... you’re just hopeless,” she said with a small laugh, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

My heart raced, my mind split between saving her and focusing on the mission. But just as the tension hung in the air, a familiar voice shattered the moment.

“Pardon me, sir, but please fight! Don’t be hopeless!” It was Kinemon, and he was standing right in front of me, completely oblivious to the mood.

I groaned, my hand dropping from Violet’s shoulder. "Way to kill the mood, Kinemon. When did you even get here?"

Violet was already starting to slip away, her urgency returning. “Violet, wait!” I shouted, but Kinemon stepped in front of me again, blocking my path.

“Fight those men!” Kinemon pointed toward a group of thugs trailing behind him, completely unaware of the delicate situation he was interrupting.

“Really, Kinemon?” I muttered, exasperated. With a swift spin, I kicked the nearest thug square in the face, sending him flying. One by one, the rest followed, collapsing like dominoes. After a few seconds, it was over. I took a drag of my cigarette, feeling the familiar burn in my chest. “They’re just thugs, Kinemon. Why the hell did you need me for this?”

Kinemon straightened, brushing off his robes as if he had just finished an important task. “I was informed that the toy factory is holding my dear friend, Kanjuro,” he said gravely, his face lined with worry.

I raised an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Oh, is that so?"

Kinemon’s eyes widened, desperation creeping into his voice. “Do you know the way?”

I couldn’t help but smirk, pulling out the small piece of paper Violet had handed me earlier. “Sure, you’ve got it,” I said, unfolding the map in front of him

Y/N POV…

"Alright, I think I lost them," I muttered to myself, finally stopping after what felt like hours of running. My heart pounded in my chest as I bent over, placing my hands on my knees to catch my breath. My muscles ached, and I was heaving like I’d just finished a marathon.

"When we get out of this," I breathed heavily, “I’m definitely gonna work on my cardio, because… man, I’m out of shape.” I chuckled to myself between gasps for air. "Then again, I was injured for the most part, so maybe this counts as my workout."

My eyes landed on a bottle of water, abandoned on the side of the street. It was probably someone’s, but I didn’t care. I snatched it up, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down the cold water. “I needed that,” I sighed, wiping my mouth.

Suddenly, a loud voice echoed from the nearby broadcast. "The crowd is going crazy, folks! Lucy is destroying the competition… in pursuit of the Flame-Flame Fruit!"

My heart nearly stopped. "Lucy?" I straightened up, my mind racing. "Flame-Flame Fruit?" My eyes darted to the transponder snail broadcast, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. "But that’s… Ace’s fruit. How did—"

My breath caught as the camera panned to the fighter in the arena. It was Luffy—no, Lucy—fighting like his life depended on it.

"Luffy?!" I whispered, eyes wide with shock. "What the hell is going on?!"

The crowd around me was roaring, cheering for "Lucy." It all made sense now. Luffy was after Ace’s fruit. My stomach twisted with a mix of emotions—relief, worry, and confusion. But more than anything, I knew I had to get to him.

“I gotta get there, and quick,” I murmured under my breath, already gearing up to run again. I glanced to my far left and spotted the massive structure of the Coliseum in the distance.

"I’m close!" I whispered to myself, my legs already moving. The pain in my body didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting to Luffy before anything went wrong. “Hang on, Luffy, I’m coming!”

With renewed determination, I pushed through the streets of Dressrosa, weaving past the citizens and sprinting toward the Coliseum. My mind raced just as fast as my feet, every step bringing me closer to whatever chaos awaited inside.

Law POV.. 

“Room!” I yelled, slicing through the second meteor Fujitora had just sent crashing down. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my focus sharp.

“Strength truly admirable for a warlord,” Fujitora said, his tone calm but unwavering.

Before I could respond, I heard Doflamingo’s chilling voice cut through the air. “Don’t interfere, he’s mine to kill, and mine alone,” he declared, launching a barrage of string bullets. One of them grazed my left cheek, drawing blood.

“Damn it,” I hissed, my mind racing. I couldn’t afford to get bogged down here, not with Y/N still in danger. I leaped away from my position, darting into the dense forest, hoping to gain some distance. But Doflamingo wasn’t far behind, his maniacal laugh echoing through the trees.

“You’re not getting away that easily, Law!” Doflamingo taunted, his strings slicing through the air as he pursued me. “Stop playing me for a fool! All this running around… it’s just to buy yourself some time!”

I gritted my teeth, pushing forward, trying to ignore the growing dread in my gut. I have to keep stalling. There’s no other option.

Doflamingo’s voice cut through my thoughts again, more venomous this time. “I will soon have her, Law. You can’t protect her forever.”

“Y/N...” The sound of her name made my blood run cold, and my eyes widened with fear. I had to keep him occupied. If he got to Y/N—no, I couldn’t let that happen. I had to keep moving, keep stalling. My only hope was to delay him long enough for the others to handle the situation.

But just as I thought I might create some distance, I skidded to a halt. Fujitora now stood in front of me, his immense presence blocking my path. My heart sank. And as I glanced behind me, Doflamingo emerged from the shadows of the forest, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Come on, did you really think I was going to let you have it your way?” Doflamingo sneered, his voice laced with malice.

“Damn it,” I muttered, my mind scrambling for a plan. I was trapped between two titans—Fujitora in front, Doflamingo behind.

Sanji POV… 

Kinemon and I made our way toward the flower field, hoping to meet up with Franky so we could make our next move on the toy factory. My mind, however, was racing with concern for Y/N, who was still unaccounted for.

“Folks, we are down to two competitors for this round!” shouted the announcer over the video transponder snail. Kinemon and I paused for a second, looking at the broadcast. My eyes widened in disbelief.

“Luffy? Sir Luffy is there?!”

I clenched my fists, a mixture of frustration and worry bubbling to the surface. “Can’t he stay out of trouble for once?”

Kinemon, oblivious to my rising temper, waved his sword in the air. “I say we go to the toy house, rescue Kanjuro, and deal with this situation after!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to rein in my frustration. “I’d love to, but we have two major problems. One, we don’t know where Y/N is, and two, there are Marines everywhere,” I said, gesturing toward the streets swarming with navy personnel. “It looks like they’re trying to surround the Colosseum.”

“To no end,” Kinemon added, tightening his grip on his sword.

I nodded, scanning the area. “It seems like a lot of pirates and criminals entered the tournament. The Marines are just waiting to scoop them up as soon as they step out of the arena.”

“Y/N... where are you?” I muttered under my breath, the anxiety gnawing at me. I couldn’t help but think the worst. Every second that passed without finding her made the knot in my stomach tighten.

“Well, a society can only operate properly if criminals are apprehended,” Kinemon said with a straight face, completely missing the gravity of the situation.

I didn’t hesitate to smack the back of his head. “Do you even realize you’re working with pirates right now? And one of them is standing right here!”

He blinked a few times, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “Ah, yes. My apologies.”

I sighed. “We’ve got to figure out a way to warn Luffy without drawing attention to ourselves. But the entrance to the Colosseum is heavily guarded, and there’s no way around.”

As we scouted the area, my eyes landed on a group of Marines stationed near the gate. Among them stood a towering figure—a Navy Vice Admiral, waiting outside the Colosseum.

 Law POV… 

“Run as much as you like, you’re just delaying the inevitable,” Doflamingo taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he pursued me relentlessly. His confidence was almost maddening, each step echoing with the promise of impending doom.

Fujitora wasn’t far behind either, his presence a looming threat as he prepared another assault. With a sudden motion, Fujitora commanded the ground to rise up and attack, sending debris flying at me. I barely managed to keep my footing, my landing almost causing me to trip.

Desperation clawed at me as I fumbled for my transponder snail, trying to reach Nami. “Come on, come on, pick up!” I pleaded, my voice tinged with urgency.

“Nami, what happened?!” I shouted into the transponder, but there was no response. Panic surged through me as Fujitora launched a third attack, his Meteor technique crashing down towards me. I tried to dodge, but the sheer force of the blast hit me with brutal impact, sending me sprawling.

“No mercy for the wicked,” Doflamingo’s laugh echoed ominously through the chaos. It felt like the world was closing in on me, each second dragging out with unbearable tension. I clutched the transponder snail tightly, desperately hoping for an answer.

The transponder snail continued to ring, each unanswered call heightening my frustration. “What are you waiting for, Nami? You were attacked, weren’t you?!” I shouted into the device, my voice cracking with desperation.

Another meteor descended, its fiery trail lighting up the sky as it hurtled toward me. The explosion was deafening, the shockwave nearly throwing me off balance. I barely managed to dodge the blast, rolling out of the way just in time. My body was heavy with exhaustion, each breath coming in ragged gasps as I tried to stay one step ahead of Fujitora’s relentless attacks and Doflamingo’s mocking taunts.

Y/N POV… 

"Sir, there are no signs of any pirates or criminals in the streets," I heard a Marine's voice echo from nearby as I crouched, hidden in a shadowy back alley. My heart raced as I kept as still as possible.

"Alright, come back to the Colosseum. We may need backup just in case," the voice of a Navy Vice Admiral responded.

I let out a slow breath as the Marines moved away, leaving the streets quieter, at least for now. Finally, I allowed myself to relax enough to make a sound.

"I need to think of a plan," I muttered under my breath. But first, I had to get rid of this disguise Kinemon had put me in. It had helped me stay hidden, but now it was more of a liability. The Marines, along with the men who had been chasing me, were probably out looking for me. I couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long.

As I was about to stand, someone grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back down. I hit the ground with a loud thud.

"And just where do you think you're going?" one of the men sneered, his laughter making my skin crawl. “The boss is going to be pleased about this.” said the other man.

Crap. They found me.

I clenched my right hand, preparing to throw a punch and send them flying, but before I could strike, a familiar figure appeared, already handling the situation.

"Now, now, why don’t we let the girl leave?" a smooth, calm voice spoke. "Besides, you're not going to lay a single hand on her."

In swift, precise movements, Sabo took out all three men with ease, knocking them down one by one until they were left sprawled out on the ground, unconscious or close to it. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Sabo?” I whispered, relief flooding through me as I stood and walked toward him, my heart pounding for a different reason now. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him in a grateful hug. "You always know how to show up just in time."

He chuckled softly, his hand resting on my back. “What can I say? I like being there when a beautiful woman needs rescuing.”

I pulled back slightly, smirking up at him. "Oh? So you’ve made it a habit of saving me, huh?"

He gave me that familiar cocky grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, what can I say? It's one of my favorite pastimes. Besides, you seem to find yourself in these situations often. Lucky for you, I don’t mind being your knight in shining armor."

I rolled my eyes playfully, but I couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my lips. “If you keep this up, I might start to think you’re following me around on purpose.”

Sabo leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, teasing. "Maybe I am. You make it worth the chase, after all." 

I was about to close the gap between us, the tension thick with unspoken words, when a groan interrupted the moment.

“Ugh... what happened…” one of the thugs muttered as he slowly regained consciousness.

Sabo sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Way to kill the mood,” he muttered under his breath. I smirked, crouching down to meet the thug's groggy gaze, grabbing him by the collar.

"Hello there," I said sweetly, my voice carrying a dangerous undertone. "You and I are going to have a little chat," I added, tightening my grip slightly as the thug’s face drained of color.

Minutes later, Sabo had tied up the last of the thugs while I took the opportunity to change into one of the outfits I “borrowed” from one of the sellers here in Dressrosa—an off-the-shoulder white mesh cami and a black mini skirt. When I stepped back, I caught Sabo looking at me, his gaze trailing slowly from my feet to my face. He let out a low whistle, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” he said, grinning as his gaze lingered a bit too long. “You’ve certainly outdone yourself, haven’t you?”

I felt a blush creeping up my neck but tried to stay composed. “Oh, this thing?” I said with a mischievous smile. “Just something I borrowed from a seller. Figured I’d spice things up a bit.”

Sabo’s eyes sparkled with amusement and admiration. “Borrowed, huh? Seems like you’re making quite the impression. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to concentrate with you looking like that.”

I stepped closer, crossing my arms with a playful smirk. “Distracted, are we? I thought you were the one who was always so focused.”

Sabo chuckled, his gaze lingering appreciatively. “Focused, yes. But you’ve definitely raised the stakes. It’s hard to keep my attention when you’re dressed like that.”

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Careful, Sabo. You might just get a little too distracted if you’re not careful.”

Sabo’s grin widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing near my ear. “Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. But you should know, being this close to you is making it a lot harder to stay focused.” 

I playfully pushed Sabo away and made my way to the thug, grabbing him by the collar. “Now, why were you chasing me? Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice firm.

Sabo, arms crossed and grinning, watched with amusement. The thug sneered at me, trying to muster some bravado. “Bite me!” he spat, attempting to land a headbutt. I dodged effortlessly and released him, Clenching my right hand and connecting it with my left palm letting my hand spark with electricity.

“Now, are you ready to talk? Or are we going to do this the hard way?” I said with a smirk, electricity crackling between my fingers.

Sabo whistled appreciatively, “Yeah, you don’t know what you signed up for. You really don’t want to get caught in that.”

As my hand drew closer, the thug’s bravado faltered. He squirmed, his face paling. “Okay, okay! I’ll talk!” he pleaded, trying to back away.

“Start talking,” I said, my voice laced with barely contained rage.

“We were sent by Joker to capture you and bring you to him,” he stammered, trembling.

“Joker, huh?” I muttered. “Well, looks like you’re going to have to make a call to Joker then.”

“I refuse!” he said defiantly, though his voice wavered.

“Well, I tried doing this nicely.” I grabbed him with my left hand, lifting him up, and connected my right hand, electricity flowing through my left arm. “Now, Bolt,” I said, as the electricity surged through him.

The thug convulsed under the shock, his whimpers echoing as I let the current flow. After a few agonizing seconds, I dropped him to the ground, his body twitching as he lay there, groaning.

“Now let’s try that again,” I said, smirking, as I readied myself for his response.

Laws Pov.. 

I kept running, my breath heavy, my mind racing. Doflamingo was closing in fast. I glanced over my shoulder, just as he appeared in front of me, blocking my path with that twisted smile.

“Well, how about that? Nowhere else for you to run, Law,” Doflamingo taunted, his voice dripping with amusement as he started walking slowly toward me.

Before I could react, Caesar’s voice cut through the tension. “Joker, wait!” Caesar shouted, waving his hands frantically. “Kill him if you want, but there’s something important I need you to do first! And don’t forget about the Princess!”

Doflamingo’s attention flicked toward Caesar, and I used the brief distraction to gather my strength. My mind was spinning, and in that moment, I couldn’t help but think of Y/N. Wherever you are... I hope you’re safe and far away from all this.

Caesar’s whining continued. “That bastard ripped my heart out and stole it from me! I shudder just thinking about what he’ll do next!” he said, his voice trembling with fear.

I can’t stop here. I won’t let him win!

“Room!” I shouted, raising my hand. “Shambles!” The world around me shifted as I teleported away from Doflamingo, creating enough distance to continue my escape.

As I reappeared farther away, my body aching, I kept running, not daring to slow down. I just need to stall. Keep him away long enough... Y/N, stay safe. I’ll deal with him. Somehow.

I fumbled with the transponder snail, my heart pounding as I called Nami’s line again. Instead, Chopper answered, sounding frantic. “Hello! Who is this?! Whoever you are, we need your help!”

“Listen, Raccoon, I don’t care what your situation is!” I barked, still sprinting and narrowly avoiding another barrage of Doflamingo’s strings. “Take the ship and head to Greenbit, now! I’m leaving Caesar with you! No time to explain—just do it!” I cut the call before he could protest.

I could hear Doflamingo's mocking laughter echoing closer. Just as I glanced back, pain tore through my side—a "bullet string" hit me dead on. I crashed to the ground, gasping for air, my vision swimming.

“This is the end of the line, Law,” Doflamingo sneered as he loomed over me, his voice a twisted blend of arrogance and sadistic joy. “Who did you end up calling? Was it the princess?”

His cruel laughter sent chills down my spine as I struggled to push myself off the ground. Every breath felt like knives in my lungs, but I forced myself to glare up at him.

“I set a trap for your partner,” Doflamingo continued, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “I knew he wouldn’t resist the prize in that gladiator contest. Strawhat doesn’t stand a chance!” He laughed again, like a predator toying with his prey.

I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the searing pain. My mind flashed to Luffy, Y/N, and the rest of the crew. I couldn't let Doflamingo win.

“So, are you ready to give up, Law?” he asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy.

.

.

.

.

.

[future-fire-dragon-blog]

What Comes Around: Chapter 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x Mafia! Afab Reader

Synopsis: Reader is a capo for the Moreno family. They have been sent to Gotham to “set up shop” and to help with a new shipment of drugs and chemicals for their customers. They decide to have some fun with the bat family.

(y/n) = your name

(l/n) = last name

Gotham had calmed down since the breakout, the only sounds, (y/n) heard was the usual rumble of the city. Cars honking, sirens, and chatter floated through the air, quite overstimulating if you’re not used to chaos. “Here Batsy, come out to play,” (y/n) sang, their voice disguised by a veneer of false innocence. They toyed with their dual pistols, the safety engaged, twirling the guns by their trigger guards as they leaped from rooftop to rooftop.

They halted, their eyes widening as they spotted a dense cluster of bats clinging to the rooftop directly in front of them, their attention riveted on the warehouse below. With a smirk, (Y/N) clambered up the small access building, their heart pounding with anticipation. Cupping their hands around their mouth, they shouted, "Hey there, Batsy!" they hollered, the bats almost jumping out of their skin. As they turned, (Y/N) grinned wickedly, their eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's great to finally meet the famous Batman and his team of child vigilantes," they said, standing tall and performing an exaggerated bow, reminiscent of the one Joker had done just hours before. "Allow me to introduce myself, Batsy. I'm the new boogeyman in town, and I'm here to shake things up."

Red Hood and the others had gathered outside a dilapidated warehouse, the rumored delivery point for the deadly "weed killer." As they stood, tense and watchful, awaiting their chance to strike, an unexpected visitor arrived. All heads turned toward the newcomer, a sinister figure clad in a sleek black suit with holsters strapped to both legs. "The bo-boogeyman?" Spoiler whispered, her voice barely audible.

The newcomer grinned wildly, their eyes glinting with malice. "Yep, and I've come with a message," they replied, their voice suddenly dropping to a chilling low. "Stay out of Moreno's business, or I won't hesitate to eliminate you as nuisances." Their menacing tone sent shivers down everyone's spines as they reached for their holsters, their head tilted to one side in a gesture of contempt.

Red Hood grunted, the sound distorted by his voice modulator. His hands instinctively moved toward his holsters, a silent challenge. "You're the one who brought in the 'weed killer'?" Red Robin demanded, his voice filled with anger and disbelief.

The newcomer let out a maniacal laugh. "Oh, little Robin, you've got guts!" they exclaimed, jumping down from the building and walking menacingly toward the edge of the platform. "What if I am? I told you to stay out of Moreno's business, and I mean it!" They pulled a pistol from their holster, the safety still on, and began to twirl it by the trigger guard. "I've done my research on you bats, especially you, Batman," they said, their voice almost casual. "I know your civilian identity."

Red Hood and the others froze, a shiver of cold running down their spines. “Tt, as if you—” Robin didn't get to finish his retort before a bullet whizzed past his cheek, leaving a thin, stinging cut. The mysterious figure's voice, cold and menacing, cut through the tension. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Robin. I hate hurting kids.” The figure lowered their arm and clicked the safety back on with a practiced deliberate motion. 

Robin reached up, wiping his gloved hand across the cut on his cheek. His fingers came away smeared with bright red blood. The sight triggered Batman’s fury. He snapped his head toward the mysterious figure, his posture shifting into a coiled, predatory stance. “What do you mean you know our civilian identities?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The figure let out a chilling giggle that sent a shiver down Red Hood’s spine, reminding him eerily of Harley Quinn. “Well, Batsy, it wasn’t exactly rocket science. Even when you lower your voice, it’s unmistakable. Your physique hasn’t changed either, at least that’s what past... acquaintances have mentioned.” They continued to pace on the edge of the rooftop, their free hand twitching towards a small pocket on their coat. “Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan, Robin, Spoiler, and even Signal—these are all kids you’ve taken under your wing, some more willingly than others. You’ve essentially raised a squad of child soldiers. Although, I suppose Robin didn’t have much choice in the matter.” They paused, a twisted grin spreading across their face. “Oh, and by the way, Robin, or should I say Damian, your mother says hello.” Their eyes gleamed with a mad, unsettling intensity as they finished their taunt.

Batman momentarily faltered, his usual stoic expression faltering as he stared at the Boogyman. “Well, this has been fun,” the Boogyman said with a mocking cheerfulness, drawing a small tranquilizer gun. Red Hood’s eyes widened in alarm. Acting swiftly, he tackled Batman and Nightwing to the ground just as the Boogyman unleashed the darts. Robin, Orphan, Spoiler, and Red Robin all collapsed almost instantly, their bodies crumpling to the pavement.

Jason's head snapped up, his expression a mix of rage and determination. He drew his pistols and fired at the Boogyman, but the figure evaded each shot with astonishing agility. The Boogyman’s eerie laughter filled the night air. “Aww, I like this coat,” they taunted, a bullet grazing their suit jacket. They cackled, locking eyes with Red Hood. “Nice reflexes, kid, but this is where our dance ends.” With a theatrical bow, they added, “Have fun carrying them home!” and with that, they vanished into the shadows, leaving only the echo of their laughter behind.

Red Hood grunted as he hefted Red Robin and Spoiler onto his shoulders, yanking the tranquilizer darts from their bodies with a grimace. He glared at one of the darts, rolling it between his fingers, his scowl deepening beneath his helmet. "They knew exactly who you were, Batman," he growled, his voice low and edged with frustration. "They even know about Robin’s mom." He raised his gaze to meet Batman’s through the narrow slits of his helmet. "They know everything."

Batman’s jaw tightened as he surveyed the fallen team members—Robin, Orphan, Red Robin, and Spoiler—each of them vulnerable, unconscious. His mind raced, calculating their next move. “You’re all benched,” he barked, his voice cold and commanding. “Until I catch them, no one’s getting back in the field. That’s an order!”

(Y/n) cackled as they strode into the safe house, the adrenaline from their latest escapade still coursing through their veins. Matthis glanced up from his phone, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “Looks like you had fun, Boss?” he asked, setting his phone down on the couch.

With a wide grin, (Y/n) tossed their suit jacket aside, revealing a ripped sleeve and a bullet hole. “So much fun,” they replied, their voice dripping with satisfaction. “I threw out a few threats, knocked most of them out cold... but sadly, my coat didn’t make it.” They frowned, examining the damage with a mix of irritation and admiration. “That damn Red Hood has some impressive marksmanship,” they muttered, tossing the jacket onto the back of the couch.

Matthis raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Even when you’re angry, you can’t help but be impressed, huh?” he observed, watching as (Y/n) leaned casually on the couch.

(Y/n) smirked, a glint of excitement in their eyes. “That I am. I think it’s time I meet Red Hood face to face.”

I hope everyone enjoys the banter between (y/n) and the bat family! I really want to portray (y/n) as a person hardened by the mafia, but yet a fun-loving person.

Arrivederci!

[book-place]

Promotion Rejections

Warnings: violence, mentions of weapons/ gasses, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x reader platonic

Request: Bat family x friend! reader! S/O is a newbie GCPD officer who’s also a meta human, possessing the powers of force fields and healing. She can protect civilians and/or officers from attacks or property damage, heal them up, trap enemies inside fields, and more,like sealing up Joker gas. She doesn’t care about fame or promotions, doesn’t want to be a secret hero, and will happily stay a low-ranking officer her whole life, wanting to use her powers to help. Side effects may be nausea and tiredness

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: There is a sense of respect

between you and Batman

A/N: Another short one for y’all

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Your hands were shaking from the amount of sheer strength it took to hold it up.

If this fight went on for longer than another minute, you didn’t think you would be able to keep it up. You would collapse from the exhaustion alone.

Luckily though, Batman got the upper hand against a hoard of Joker's goons, taking them down one by one. Though, it was a painfully slow process.

With one last sickening thud, the last goon fell into an ungracious heap on the ground, just in time for the last of the Joker gas to simmer out.

You dropped your hands, breathing loudly and allowing the force field you had placed around the deadly substance to fall along with them.

Nearby civilians that had been watched in horror at the sight before them burst into cheers and applause all at once, a couple of the nearby officers in your unit even joining along as well.

Your entire figure was shaking as you let your body lean against a nearby brick wall and you allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a moment as you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” A deep voice startled you, making your eyes fly open.

Batman stood a mere couple of feet away, looking at you with that emotionless expression of his, though you knew he of all people wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t actually want to know.

The two of you had worked together on many different occasions. And- dare you say- you very well might have earned his trust and respect over time. And along with that, seemed to come his- rarely ever shown- care.

“I’m alright,” You confirmed, breathing the words out in a way that gave you away to still being tired.

He nodded once and opened his mouth, as if to say more, but was cut off by a different voice.

“Officer L/n!” The deputy of your department called boisterously, striding over and clapping you on the shoulder, “Well done as always!”

You cringed a bit, “Thanks,” You mumbled.

Being the only metahuman in your division- let alone on the whole force- you came in handy many times- whenever a force field was needed, that is. Which was often. And because of this, there were always lots of cameras around, trying to snap the latest shot of the officer that always saved the day.

Promotions were quick to line up as soon as you started working, but you declined every single time. You always hated the spotlight. The only reason you became a police officer was to help people, not for the fame that was dragged along with it.

“Now, about that promotion-“ He spoke again with a wide grin.

Batman was quick to cut him off, clearing his throat, “Deputy. We have some things to discuss about the case at hand.” His tone was final and left no room for argument.

The man hesitated for a moment, grin faltering, before he nodded and tried to redeem himself, “Yes, of course.”

You threw the vigilante a grateful smile, to which he responded with a single nod once more, moving to lead the deputy away.

Maybe not much words were spoken between the two of you, but you could tell he had your back, just like you had his. Even if it came to rejecting promotions.

The Superior Robin ❤️- @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @i-writes-things @ladyagagaslefttoe @xbergiex

[thedivinevera]

♡Black and blue♡

Dottore x reader, IL Dottore x reader, Zandick x reader, Dottore x fem!reader,

Harley Quinn & joker, acid scene from s*icide squad inspired, Insane x crazy in-love, one sided pinning in the first part, dottore is aware what he is, kissing, fluff ig, acid bath baby!

Tw: Unhealthy relationship, Dottore, crazy in-love, jumping to a pool of "safe acid" or Chemical thingy, the reader jump from the 4th floor, bad writing, bad grammar, some bad spelling incoming, a bit ooc of Dottore

How many thing can you pull just for him to realize, your complete devotion from him?... Do you think you can jump from the 4th floor of a factory and land to a pool of unknown chemical? risking your life just to complete his test? Do you think dottore is as crazy in-love as you?

“Question!” the Doctor shout, voice echoing in the factory, the only thing you hear is the bubble of acid, his voice, and you, breathing. The only thing you smell right now is the acid that you can see down there. You're in the exact location of the 4th floor of the fatui's special acid factory owned by one and only "the Doctor" you're with now. You stand there, stupidly waiting to for the crazy man, you loved so dearly to asked his question “Would you die for me?” he whisper into your ears, you can feel his breath on your face “Yes” you reply, eyes keeping a straight stare to his mask. You're insane for saying this but as the quotes said; "everybody is insane when they're in love" and that is what's happening right now.

After chasing Dottore in his factory after he leaves you alone, which everybody should be grateful for but not you, you put yourself in this scenario that can leave you with satisfaction or death and you choose this without thinking twice

“That's too easy,” he said, practically mocking you with that tone, “Would you—would you live... For me” his tone emphasizing the Live part. “yes” again but now louder “Careful... Do not say this oath, thoughtlessly” he put his hands in your chin and forcing you to look more to his mask, covered eyes “desire becomes surrender, surrender becomes—power!” he shout as he let his hands remove the loose hair from your face “You want this?” he asked “I do...” you answer “say it, say it, say—it, pretty, pretty, pretty—” he repeats showcasing his Insanity, maybe that would make you leave him, he said to himself

“please...” you begged, that's the last answer dottore needs to just send you off to death. For you its a gamble, he either save you or leave you, but for some it's an absolute Insanity.

You're crazy, dottore said to himself as you whisper, the last plea to his ears, not as crazy as him but crazy, crazy enough to love him truly that you would go overboard just to showcase a complete loyalty. “good.. then” he opened his arms signaling for you to jump on the bubbling acid, from the fourth floor of this factory, not expecting that you will do it, nor going for it but you did arms open as you let yourself fall to the acid, back first, you can feel the air blowing your hair and clothes, you can smell the toxic chemical down there, it feels like you're in a slow motion, everything feels ethereal and not even a ounce of regret is in your body then finally you succumb to the pool of chemical not thinking twice, you let yourself drown to the acid not moving completely, letting the chemical cover your entire body, this creamy, green colored toxin you let your body touch, just because you love this insane, murderous, fucking crazy, absolutely delusional, yet deadly handsome man, you let him order you to this insane things, just so he can see how many length your devotion can put you in.

As you let yourself succumb to the chemical, you have Dottore leaving you and letting you drown in the chemical and putting yourself to death but as he tries to leave something about him that makes him stop his track, something at the back of his head that keep telling to him that he couldn't let you die like that, he will regret it and HE WILL— REGRET IT. He grunt to himself as he removed his coat and mask, without thinking twice he jumped into the acid without hesitation, succumbing to the voice inside his head, letting the voice that he ignore to just control his body and blind his brain and let his heart that he never thought he still has, to take the lead

He swims to the bottom of the container taking your unconscious body above this pool of chemical. He kisses your lips, giving you air to breathe, as your eyes open you see Dottore, cover in the same chemical you're also covered with, now without his mask you can clearly see his ruby eyes. He Kisses you once again, you press yourself to his lips like it would be your last kiss “You are fucking insane, you know that?” he muttered “But I love it” he said as he gives you another tender kiss, completely taking your breath away, his sweet kisses are like a kiss of a devil. Absolutely divine, that is what you're feeling right now, you don't know what would happen next but you are more ready to take it, especially when it's from him. He pulled away his lips and laugh like a maniac he is, but that cut off when he pressed your lips to him, and his teeth eagerly bit the lower lip, letting yours and his tongue taste the blood. Love can make everybody crazy but he's more than crazy his fucking insane

[inkmonster21]

Let Me In

Series Masterlist

Heath Ledger Joker x Fem!Batgirl!Reader

Warnings: TDK Plot

The Assist

💚🃏💜

The Officer attempted to hold up traffic, trying to keep order in the chaotic city. But amidst the ongoing commotion, a transfer truck approached, horn blaring defiantly. It was clear that the driver was impatient and unwilling to wait any longer.

The Officer stood his ground, determined to uphold his duty despite the impatient truck driver. "You wait like everybody else, pal," he retorted, his tone firm and unyielding.

The Officer never saw it coming. With a quick, calculated movement, the Joker surfaced from the middle of the truck and unleashed a shotgun blast right at the Officer. The force of the shot sent the Officer stumbling backward, his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The SWAT Officer slowed down, his attention momentarily diverted by a sight in the distance. Up ahead, amidst the chaotic intersection, a fire raged, its flames flickering and crackling as they consumed whatever was in their path.

The Officer's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He knew that something was amiss, and his instincts kicked into high gear.

The Officer's radio crackled, an urgent message from the dispatcher cutting through the tension of the moment. "All units, be advised," the voice said, "all units will exit down Cheviot west and proceed north on lower 5th avenue."

Another Officer, filled with skepticism, questioned the orders on the radio. "Lower 5th? We'll be like ducks in a barrel down there," he said, voicing his concerns and doubts about the plan.

The convoy, carrying the newly self-proclaimed Batman, vanished from sight as they made their way down the exit ramp. The streets seemed to hold their breath, awaiting the inevitable storm that would soon follow.

The garbage truck behind the convoy seemed to move with a purpose, an unexpected and lethal presence amidst the ordinary chaos of the roads. With a simple yet powerful maneuver, the truck swiped the rear vehicles of the convoy off the road, sending them crashing and rolling as if they were nothing but mere toys.

The officers inside the truck reacted with panic, their fear palpable as they stared at the carnage behind them. "Get us out of here!" they shouted, their voices filled with desperation. The garbage truck picked up speed, maneuvering through the chaotic streets with a deadly precision that betrayed the expertise of its driver.

The garbage truck continued its relentless pursuit, its heavy frame colliding with the rear bumper of the armored car. With a loud thump, it rammed into the car, pushing it forward and forcing it to accelerate against its will. The sound of metal grinding against metal filled the air, a symphony of destruction that echoed through the chaotic streets.

The driver, acutely aware of the threat behind, kept a watchful eye on the garbage truck through the rearview mirror. With growing unease, he picked up the radio and relayed the warning to his fellow officers. "We've got company back here,“ his voice tense and urgent.

The nightmare continued as a second truck made its presence known, smashing into the SWAT van at the head of the convoy with brutal force. The impact sent the van crashing through the concrete barriers and into the water below, its descent leaving a trail of shattered debris in its wake.

The truck, unmistakably marked with the haunting words "LAUGHTER," was a stark reminder of the twisted sense of humor of the Joker and his gang. The graffiti on its side, now reading "SLAUGHTER" with the addition of an "S," only heightened the sense of menace, while the "HA, HA, HA" repeated across its side served as an ominous soundtrack to the unfolding darkness.

The Joker's truck navigated the maze of support columns with an almost playful ease, weaving effortlessly through the narrow spaces before swooping into the oncoming lane. With a smooth motion, it now found itself running parallel to the armored car holding Harvey Dent, its menacing presence taunting and challenging the law enforcement within.

The driver's eyes widened in terror as the cargo door of the truck slid open, revealing the Joker holding a machine gun. The villain's twisted face was illuminated by a menacing grin, his eyes filled with manic determination. As he gripped the weapon, a sense of imminent danger filled the air.

The armored car reacted desperately, its brakes locking up as it attempted to defy the relentless force of the garbage truck. But all efforts were in vain, as the truck pushed it forward, leaving it vulnerable to the Joker's deadly assault. Bullets from the machine gun sprayed the side of the vehicle, each impact sending a violent shudder through its steel frame. The air was filled with the sound of gunfire and the shattering of glass, as the armored car struggled to withstand the onslaught.

Suddenly, the Joker found himself mesmerized by the sight of the Batmobile, racing towards the second truck. For a moment, his sadistic gaze fixated on the dark figure at the wheel, his twisted mind intrigued and fascinated by the sight. But the distraction was short-lived, as the Joker dropped his machine gun and picked up an RPG, aiming it directly at the Batmobile.

The scene unfolded like a violent ballet, as the Batmobile, unstoppable and relentless, plowed straight into the second truck. The impact was brutal, the low-profile car sending the truck flying vertically into the concrete ceiling. With a thunderous explosion, the truck disintegrated, leaving no trace of its existence. The Batmobile, undeterred, carried on through the wreckage, a symbol of unyielding justice amidst the chaos.

The Joker's twisted smile widened, his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement as he watched the Batmobile continue its destructive path. The sight of the vigilante had sparked something in the villain's mind, a mixture of fascination and challenge. He watched with a twisted curiosity, his anticipation building as the Batmobile approached once again.

One of the Joker's thugs, standing by the boss's side, couldn't help but marvel at the spectacle in front of them. As the Batmobile closed in, the thug voiced a simple yet loaded question, his voice thick with both awe and trepidation. "Is that him?" The Joker spoke, still fixated on the Batmobile, “Anyone could be driving that thing. Stay on Dent.”

The Joker, always the master of manipulation, was playing a dangerous game. If the one driving turned out to be you, he didn't want to bear the burden of having taken your life.

In a swift and calculated move, the Joker lined up his RPG, taking aim. With a single trigger pull, he unleashed a rocket-propelled projectile towards the car, its trajectory aimed straight at its target.

The scene was a chaotic symphony of metal and destruction. The armored car slammed backward against the garbage truck, its brakes screeching and scraping in a desperate effort to slow down. Just as the RPG launched from the Joker's hands, the squad car in front absorbed the impact, its body disintegrating in a ball of fire. Miraculously, the armored car emerged from the inferno, battered but unbroken, continuing its escape.

The Batmobile, undeterred and unfazed, spun around with a flawless pirouette, determined to rejoin the pursuit. The vehicle's agility and power were undeniable, as it effortlessly navigated through the chaotic streets, its eyes fixed on the escaping armored car.

From the driver's seat, Batman observed the Joker readying another attack, his twisted smirk a grim portent. Several rows of cars stood between them, a formidable barrier in the midst of the city's chaos. Without hesitation, Batman activated the Batmobile's afterburner, unleashing a surge of raw power that would propel him through the obstacles standing in his way.

The Joker, with a steady hand, took aim once more, his finger hovering over the trigger. With a calculated motion, he fired the RPG, unleashing a powerful blow that threatened to vanquish the Batmobile. However, the vigilant hero was no ordinary foe. The Batmobile surged forward, carving its way into the space between the two vehicles just as the missile struck, absorbing the impact of the explosion.

The rear of the Batmobile met a devastating fate. An explosion tore through the vehicle, causing it to spin uncontrollably amidst the flames. The Batmobile, once a symbol of hope and fear, now resembled a battered warrior, struggling to keep its balance against the onslaught.

The Batmobile, now a smoldering ruin, lay motionless on the ground, its front end miraculously unscathed amidst the wreckage. Scattered across the roadway were the remnants of the rear wheels, a stark reminder of the violent encounter. A growing crowd gathered, their faces a mixture of shock and curiosity, witnessing the aftermath of the battle between the vigilante and the twisted forces of Gotham.

Still dazed from the impact of the huge crash, you sat in your seat, coughing and trying to regain your bearings. As your eyes settled on Batman, you couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and concern. The Batmobile's destruction seemed almost surreal, but he seemed unharmed. His stoic expression concealed any signs of pain or injury, leaving you to wonder if he was truly invincible or simply good at hiding his vulnerabilities.

Despite the chaos and destruction surrounding them, Batman's voice remained calm and composed. He turned to you, his eyes filled with determination, and issued a simple command. "Get onto the rooftop at the exit of the tunnel," he said, “if you see him before I do, stop that truck.”

Though you nodded in agreement, a nagging doubt gnawed at you. You were all too aware of your inner turmoil. You knew that you had no choice. Gotham, as well as Batman, needed your help. So, with a heavy heart, you reluctantly accepted the mission, unsure of what the outcome would be.

The Joker grabbed his lifeless driver, yanked him out of the cab, and effortlessly vaulted over him to take the wheel. His distorted voice echoed through the air as he declared, "Excuse me! I wanna drive!"

The pursuit continued a deadly game of cat and mouse. The armored car, its path a trail of relentless determination, raced ahead, with the Joker's truck nipping at its heels. The Joker, behind the wheel, displayed an unnerving sense of joy and amusement, his twisted laughter reverberating through the chaotic chase.

You found yourself standing on the rooftop, your eyes scanning the dark tunnel below. In your heart, you silently prayed for a miracle. You hoped that the Joker would be thwarted or that he would somehow have a change of heart, abandoning his plans before he exited the tunnel. However, deep down, you knew it was highly unlikely. The Joker's twisted mind defied reason and logic. He was the embodiment of chaos, and he was set on causing destruction and mayhem. But you held onto that glimmer of hope, no matter how faint it seemed.

The chase continued, as the armored car veered onto a ramp, heading upwards. The Joker's truck was relentless in its pursuit, closely tailing its target, refusing to yield or give up. The scene was chaotic, the city's towering buildings whizzing by as the vehicles ascended through the urban landscape.

Your heart sank as you spotted the Joker's truck trailing behind the armored car, its presence confirming your worst fears. With a mix of anxiety and determination, you reported the sighting to Batman, your voice betraying a hint of desperation. "I've got eyes on him," you said.

In pursuit of the truck, you nimbly leaped and glided across the city rooftops, navigating the urban landscape with grace and haste. The truck weaved through the streets, its path a wild and erratic journey, while you chased relentlessly, determined not to let it out of your sight.

The scene turned into a chaotic symphony of destruction. The Joker's goons, with deadly precision, fired cables across Seventh Street, setting the stage for a devastating trap. As the hapless chopper approached, flying blissfully unaware, it became snagged by the taut cables, falling into a blazing inferno that sent it spiraling down into the street. The resulting fire ball barreled towards the armored car, a malevolent force seeking to claim its prey.

The urgency in your voice crackles through the earpiece, as panic sets in. "You gotta hurry!" you exclaim, knowing that every second counts. Batman, amidst the chaos, feels the weight of the situation. He realizes he's running out of time, and each moment that passes only puts those trapped in the armored car in greater danger.

The Joker's gaze fixated on the Bat-pod as it emerged from the alley in a spectacle of fire, screeching sideways in a near-impossible maneuver. He couldn't help but chuckle, his twisted mind finding a moment of dark amusement. "Now there's a Batman," he quipped, his voice tinged with both mockery and anticipation.

The Bat-pod charged towards the Joker's truck with a determined frenzy, “oh you wanna play? Come on.” Batman fired a harpoon launcher with a sharp trigger pull, it launched a harpoon, hitting its mark low beneath the truck's bumper. “He missed!” The thugs cheered.

Batman, demonstrating remarkable skill and agility, swerved past the Joker's truck with a precision that defied the laws of physics. With expert control, he zigzagged through the streets, weaving effortlessly between obstacles. The cables trailed behind him, wrapping around a lamp post effortlessly. Batman executed a flawless spin, coming to a halt, his eyes fixed on the outcome.

The cables, now taut with tension, yanked violently one lamp post clean from its foundation. The truck's front wheels Caught in a horrific fashion, causing it to flip end over end, its steel frame crumpling under the sheer force. The impact was catastrophic, a chaotic symphony of metal slamming into pavement.

Leaning precariously over the edge, you fight back the urge to check on Joker. You feel an inexplicable mix of emotions welling up inside you—fear, concern, and a strange sense of responsibility. The thought that he might be hurt or worse is overwhelming, causing a knot in your stomach.

As the dust settles on the chaotic scene, the Joker Emerges from the wreckage, dazed and shaken yet undamaged. His gun, fired when he fell, echoes through the air with a loud report. The Clown Prince of Crime rises to his feet, his twisted grin returning as he vigorously wrings his neck, seemingly unphased by the brutal crash.

The Joker, seizing the chaotic moment, raises his pistol high and waves it frantically at the passing traffic as he glares at Batman. The bat-pod roars forward, racing towards the Joker with alarming speed. The Clown Prince of Crime, holding a gun, continues to Fire at passing traffic, creating a chaotic and dangerous situation.

Panic grips your voice as you cry out in horror. "What are you doing? You're going to kill him!" you exclaim, watching as Batman's bat-pod hurtles towards the Joker.

The Joker, standing defiantly, mutters, "Hit me. Come on. Hit me." His voice is filled with a maniacal eagerness, and he remains rooted in place, challenging Batman with his very stance. The Bat-Pod inches closer, its ominous presence growing by the second.

Your voice cuts through the tense atmosphere like a clarion call, echoing with desperation. "Stop!" you yell, your plea directed at Batman.

Despite your plea, Batman doesn't slow down. Instead, he seems to accelerate, the Bat-Pod hurtling forward with even more speed and intensity. The Joker, undaunted, remains defiantly planted, his twisted smile never wavering. “Come on. I want you to do it. I want you to hit me. Come on.”

Your love for the Joker, despite the darkness and madness within him, compels you to take action. With a determination fueled by emotion, you decide you can't allow this situation to escalate further, especially if it means the Joker's life is at stake. The thought of a world without him fills you with a profound sense of loss, making the prospect of his death unbearable.

"HIT ME!" The Clown Prince of Crime bellows, his voice a maddened cry for attention. The air is thick with anticipation as the Bat-Pod inches closer and closer, the impending collision immanent.

Batman, sitting atop the Bat-Pod, observes the scene unfolding before him. His eyes stay fixed on the Joker, who stands defiantly in the path of the speeding vehicle, waiting for impact. The road narrows, providing no room to maneuver around him.

With lightning-fast reflexes, you grab your grabbing hook and shoot it across the buildings, swinging down in a graceful arc. Just as the world seems to move in slow motion, you manage to collide with Batman, knocking him off his bike. The impact sends him sprawling, while you land with surprising precision between him and the Joker. The tension hangs heavy in the air as the scene comes to a standstill.

Batman lies motionless on the pavement, the impact from his tumble rendering him unconscious. Meanwhile, the Joker's gaze remains fixed on you, that wide smirk growing wider as he takes in the scene before him.

He takes a step towards you, his gaze never leaving your face. The air is crackling with suspense as the Joker closes the distance between you, his twisted grin a contrast to the tense atmosphere. "See? That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You look at Batman and then back to the Joker taking a step back as you realize what you’ve done. A sense of shame washing over you, the Joker simply waves with a casual farewell. "See you soon, doll," he says, before you disappear into the night, leaving Batman unconscious without a second thought.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 48

Hi guys! Sorry about the delay with this part - its taken a while to figure this chapter out and exactly what was going to happen!

(I still have no idea what I'm doing - so bare with me and I'm sorry if this story isn't really flowing very well, I'm feeling a bit lost with it now haha)

Hope you enjoy anyway!

As always if you want to be tagged let me know, and if you have any requests you'd like me to have a go at (for any fandom) don't hesitate to message me! :D

MASTERLIST

The rest of the day dragged – the worry of the evening heavy on my mind. I tried to occupy myself as usual but I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything, my mind too busy worrying about what the Joker would possibly want from at the end of all of this. It was a complete waste of time and worrying, as I’d never know the answer, but I couldn’t stop myself.

As the evening finally began to fall, I found myself once more in the small front room of the mansion, tapping mindlessly on the piano keys in an attempt to occupy my mind away from the possible outcomes of this evening – though I was wholly unsuccessful.

I was now trying to ignore the world around me as I sat on the little stool, playing a small childish tune as the darkness engulfed the room around me. I had no care for what I was doing – my mind blissfully unthinking as I focused on which key to press. The tune was simple and basic – one that was taught to children when they first learn to play, something they’d think was amazing and complex when they first tried. The tune had a high pitch so my hand remained at the top keys, flowing smoothly without much thought until I finally pressed the last note, letting it hand in the air a bit.

Suddenly a slow clap broke out from behind me and I practically jumped off the stool in surprise. “Jesus!” I couldn’t help myself crying as I spun around to face the noise to find none other than the Joker sat in one of the armchairs by the unlit fire, a tumbler of amber liquid by his side. He looked handsome and dangerous in a black shirt, his chest exposed as usual and the dark material only accenting how pale his skin was.

He stopped clapping, “No, doll, just me.” He grinned widely, “Though, I do consider myself god’s only child.” He teased.

“Don’t you ever knock!” I gasped, still feeling the after effects of my minor heart attack.

“Last time I check, doll,” He sneered, reaching for his drink, “this was still my house.” He said, taking a sip from the glass. His tone was relatively light, but I could hear the danger in his words which warned me not to think about telling him what to do.

I realised my mistake and bit back my retort quickly before I dug myself a hole I couldn’t get out of. J seemed content with this silence as an apology and the hardness in his eyes seemed to fade slightly.

“Get dressed doll,” He instructed, changing the topic, “We’re going out.”

I frowned, “Where?”

“That is the surprise.” He grinned widely, “Wouldn’t want to ruin that would we, doll?”

I eyed him warily, I didn’t like the sound of this. “Ok... Then what’s the dress code?” I asked carefully, watching him, trying to get any hint I could about where we were going.

“There are clothes laid out for you.” He dismissed, with a flick of his hand. “Be quick doll, we don’t want to be late.” He purred, there was something dark in his eyes and – though it didn’t feel aimed at me – it still made me uncomfortable. What was I getting myself into now? I hesitated a moment longer but then took my leave, heading quickly out the room - not liking having my back turned to him – and practically ran up the stairs. He still unsettled me and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was psychotic murder or because I had feelings for him.

Sure enough, when I reached the bedroom, a saw that a set of clothes had been laid neatly out on my side of the bed. I examined them, they didn’t look too bad this time – a pair of smart jeans and a stylish top - I might actually be happy to wear this tonight. Even the heels didn’t look too high – they were almost practical. Clearly wherever we were going was not as fancy as last night.

I got ready and went back downstairs, heading to the small room. I wasn’t surprised when I found the room empty - I had half expected the Joker to have vanished when I returned, having gotten bored or distracted and pawned me off to Frost to deal with as usual. I stood in the doorway looking at the empty seat and sighed heavily. What hope did I have with the guy – even if I wanted to – if I wasn’t good enough to keep his attention for more than a moment?

“Lose somebody, doll?”

I jumped again, spinning to face the Joker who stood behind me. I hadn’t expected him to be as close as he was and I ended up practically nose to nose with him, instinctively taking a step back from his intense gaze.

I thought I saw something flicker in the Joker’s eyes, but then he turned away and it was gone. “Come on, doll. Don’t want to be late.” He growled, heading down the hallway, deeper into the house. I followed him as headed to the end of the hallway, turning behind the stairs and taking the same door as I had originally arrived through with Frost.

We retraced the same route back to the large cavernous garage, and I hesitated in the doorway, taking the room in again. It was the same as the last time I saw it, the large collection of high performance cars still to my right, but the usual group of 4x4s on the left was missing, ony two remaining parked silently in the dark. I frowned at this, did his men have the night off? Or were they all out doing something? Was I part of that something?

Unlike me, the Joker hadn’t paused and instead had strode straight over to one of the sports cars – a bright purple Lamborghini. He must have hit a button because the lights flashed suddenly, lighting up the darkened space momentarily.

“Problem, doll?” He asked, turning to see me stood in the doorway. I wanted to say yes, I wanted to let out every question and worry that was running through my mind – where were we going? What were we doing? What was his plan, his end goal? Why wouldn’t he tell?

But I didn’t say a word, keeping my mouth shut and just hurrying after him instead. I paused at the side of the car, going to open the passenger door and watching in amazement when it didn’t open out like a normal car, but instead swung upwards. I marvelled at the car, I had never been this close to this much money – this thing was worth more than my old club – definitely more than my life.

I slipped in, awkward and embarrassed at being in the presence of such luxury – preferring to ride in the 4x4s which at least felt slightly normal, even if they were bulletproof with blacked out windows.

The Joker was already in the driver’s seat and starting the car before I had worked out how to close the door. The engine roared around us and I hadn’t put my seatbelt on before we roared out of the large garage and onto the quite suburban street.

The growl of the car felt out of place in the silent neighbourhood and I felt embarrassed to be part of the reason the peace was broken. I glanced over at the Joker who was staring hard out the windscreen, his claw clench as his mouth a straight line. He was either concentrating very hard on something or he was mad. I wasn’t sure which so I remained silent, gripping at my seat as we hurtled down the hill towards the city doing at least double the speed limit.

The road was empty this far out of the city at this time of night, but the roads became busier as we drew closer to the city centre where there were still a few late night commuters and the mass of taxi cabs transporting people to nightlife destinations. The Joker, however, didn’t let up on his speed, the only change to his driving was the reckless swerving he did to overtake and cut off other cars on the road. I gripped my seat tighter, wanting to shut my eyes but instead they just seemed to open wider as I watched car after car narrowly avoid us.

The Lamborghini took the manic driving in its stride, overtaking the other cars with ease, never losing grip on the road beneath us, and smoothly drifting around the junctions when J took the corners too fast.

The city blurred past my window, as we sped through the centre making it hard – along with the darkness of the night – to make out where we were or where we were going. I was pretty sure whatever we were doing was in the city and the more we drove the more I panicked – we must be close surely?

The few landmarks I could make out soon vanished and the streets quietened once more, few cars on the road and few people walking the pavements. It all made me nervous.

The number of streetlights began to reduce till we were basically driving through darkness, except for the small area of road dimly lit by the headlights in front of us. There were no lights on or in the buildings around us and, from the limited view I got from the glow of the headlights, the road was now lined with abandoned warehouses and boarded doorways. We must have travelled straight through the centre of town and were now on the outskirts by the docks.

If I hadn’t been panicking before, I was now. This was where everything dodgy happened, where secrets meetings took place and black-market deals happened. An area of Gotham I made it my mission to never enter out of respect for my life.

“W-Where are we going?” I croaked out, my panic getting the best of me and forcing me to say something. The Joker snapped his head over to look at me as though he’d forgotten I was in the car with him.

A slow, sinister grin spread across his features and he returned his eyes to the road again, “A little detour, doll.” He growled, “To have a little fun.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, not liking the sound of this at all.

“It means, doll. That we’re going to pay little Pengy a visit - though he won’t be home.”

That didn’t make any sense and the new information did nothing to stem my panic. I just wished he’d stop talking in riddles and hints and just tell me what was going on.

I didn’t bother to probe any further though, he clearly wasn’t up for giving me a straight answer. Clearly what we were doing had something to do with Penguin, yet Penguin wouldn’t actually be there?

I frowned to myself as different scenarios and ideas flew through my mind just like we flew through the maze of warehouses. Eventually, however, the Joker pulled outside one of the many identical warehouse and I felt my stomach drop through the floor. This was it.  

The Joker slid elegantly out of the low car and I hesitated a moment before I followed – knowing there was no way he would just let me stay in the car. I scrambled out, the Joker already waiting on the pavement, his eyes on a figure that was walking up the street toward us.

J hadn’t seemed to tense at the appearance of the figure, but I couldn’t determine who it was in the darkness, only that they carried a torch. The only light source near us was a singular streetlight on the opposite side of the street – and even this flickered unreliably – and so it was only as the man got within several feet of us, that the light caught his features and I recognised Frost.

I felt myself relax at the familiar face, “All set up inside, Boss.” Frost stated, stopping opposite us.

“Good job, Frosty.” J sneered, “Let’s go play with our little Penguin buddy.” He grinned wickedly, before he turned and headed down an alley behind us that ran down the side of two warehouses, leaving me stood on the pavement in the chilly air. I looked back across at frost in a silent question of whether I was supposed to follow.

He looked back at me before inclining his head and gesturing chivalrously for me to go first down the alley. I followed after the criminal clown, though he was already out of sight - having been swallowed up quickly by the surrounding night -  and I felt Frost bringing up the rear behind me, though he moved silently for a large man, his feet barely making a noise on the tarmac underfoot.

I wandered down the alley blinding, Frost’s torch making shining past my side my side to illuminate a small path for me. I didn’t catch sight of the Joker again but I followed the only route that was available to me – straight ahead. Eventually the alley opened up into a large tarmacked area around the back of the warehouse and I could hear the soft lapping of water beyond this and the wind was much stronger, pulling at my bare arms and making me shiver. Frost now aimed the torch light back at the building and onto a door which I began to heat to, carefully not to trip over unseen obstacles that lay on the floor.

I tried the door, half expecting it to be locked, but it swung open for me and I stepped inside, the corridor bitch black and even darker than the night outside. I hesitated in the doorway, J was still nowhere in sight, and no sound came from inside the warehouse. I felt Frost step up behind me and I stepped into the corridor, my hand on the walls either side of me so I didn’t hit anything. Eventually I felt a doorframe and realized I must have reached another door – this open already open – probably thanks to the Joker. I stepped through and I lost the walls either side of me as the room opened up, and Frost stepped past me, shining the torch light around the room showing just how huge the room was. The ceiling towered above so high the torch barely reached it, and I couldn’t see the back of the room, partially because of the distance, and partially because objects that blocked my view.

I stopped where I was, only a few steps into the room, unsure what on Earth was going on. I turned to the man now stood next to me. “Frost, what are we doing here?” I asked, my voice cracking from lack of use. I hoped if J wasn’t around, then Frost might be willing to tell me something.

“Business.” He answered as though that was all I needed to know. I wasn’t giving up that easily.

“What sort of business – where are we?” I persisted.

“This,” He gestured the torch light around the room again, “Is one of Penguin’s warehouses.” He told me. Shit.

“Why are we here?” I asked, almost desperate now. This whole thing was going to get me killed – you couldn’t just walk into a crime lords warehouse and expect to leave with your life.

Frost shrugged again in the limited light, “Boss wants to send a message.”

I gulped, that sounded ominous. “Why am I here?” I asked, confused – surely, I was no use in this situation. A hindrance at best.

Frost hesitated again, and I could see he really didn’t want to answer this question. But he was stuck with me now - J having long left us by the looks of things – and I wasn’t going to drop it if I knew he knew.

“Frost.” I persisted, almost whining. I heard him sigh in the dark.

“Boss has been muttering something about bringing you to one of these things for a while now – I don’t know why,” He defended quickly, “I suggested this one because I thought it was the safest – most guaranteed success – but J agreed far too quickly for my liking.” I scowled at him through the darkness, not liking the idea that I had people arranging my fate behind my back.

We stood in silence for a while then as I processed the fact that the Joker somehow thought it worthwhile for me to come along and be stuck in a freezing cold warehouse in the middle of the night whilst he did god knows what in an attempt to piss off the Penguin.

I was annoyed. I was pissed. But I was also resigned to the fact that I was here now. “So, what are we doing?” I asked – might as well play along if I was stuck here anyway – plus my intrigue was getting the better of me.

Frost looked over, shocked at my sudden change of heart. “What?” I retorted, putting my hands on my hips, “It is Penguin after all – he does technically deserve it.” I pointed out. I couldn’t tell if Frost now looked shocked or impressed – maybe it was both.

He seemed to shake himself out of it though, “We’re on lookout out duty.” He explained. I raised an eyebrow at this – though I doubted Frost could see it in the dark – it sounded so cliché, like it was out of an old crime movie. “We shouldn’t have to do much,” Frost continued, “there are a few guys inside keeping watch and I have a large perimeter around the area to alert me if any of Penguins men shows up.”

“So, you’re telling me they just leave this warehouse empty every night?” I asked in disbelief, “There can’t be anything that important in it then?”

“Big guys with guns aren’t the only security that exists, [Y/N],” He pointed out, as though insulted for Penguin that I would suggest such a thing, “- most of us rely on technology now. Plus, men just make it obvious that there is something worth stealing.

“As for the cameras and alarms,” He continued, “– I’ve had men working on it. All are disabled for a small window tonight for the Boss to do what he needs to do.”

I nodded along. Sounded like it made sense – though I doubt I’d be able to see even the hugest flaw in a plan.

We fell back into silence for a moment until a loud crackling noise broke the quiet and echoed around the high-roofed room, making me jump about a foot in the air. I glanced around the room frantically trying to find where it was coming from, my heart beating erratically, panicking that someone had got through Frost’s defenses. The source of the noise became apparent when Frost, reached for his side and unclipped the crackling radio from his belt.

Frost pressed the ‘talk’ button and spoke into the device, “What is it?” Asked Frost, clearly annoyed at the loud, intrusive noise.

A crackle came back and I thought I could hear a voice but it was broken up the loud hissing and white noise.

“This bloody place is blocking the signal.” Frost muttered to himself, dropping the radio to his side and turning to me. “Sorry, [Y/N}, I need to head back outside to deal with this. Stay here.” He instructed. Without waiting to hear a response he turned and began to head back where the door had been. He suddenly paused, turning back, to me, “Take this,” He said, handing me the torch. I was about to protest, but he interrupted me, “Don’t worry I’ll be fine.” He turned his attention to his jacket pocket and withdrew something, also handing it over to me, “You might need this as well.” He said and I shone the torch onto his hand. It was my handgun.

“How long have you had this?” I demanded in surprise, eyeing the weapon. Someone must have gone back to my apartment to get this from where I stored it in my desk drawer – they would have had to have searched the entire my entire flat to find it!

“A while.” He admitted, “Look, you shouldn’t need it – but, just in case.” I took it from him reluctantly and gripped it tightly, hoping he was right and that I wouldn’t need to use it.

Content that I had everything I needed, Frost nodded at me and turned once more, disappearing out the door and back down the dark corridor, I watched him go with the beam of the torch on his back.

And so, I was left in the cavernous, pitch black room, the autumn night air whistling through the room and around my lone figure. I took comfort in the small dim circle of light at my feet provided by the torch, and the weight of my little gun in my other hand at my side.

I wasn’t sure how long I waited for Frost to return, but it felt like forever, especially now the coldness was getting to me and chilling my bones. I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, tucking my gun into the crook of my elbow and keeping my torch pointed out in front of me.

Soon the cold became too much, and my nerves made me restless, so I began to pace, only a few steps back and forth to start with, but soon I gained confidence and began to wander the huge warehouse. From what I could gather from my small patch of light, the room was basically empty except for the occasional pile of rates, boxes and stacked old furniture.

I almost intrigued what this warehouse was used for – the fact that it was on the docks made me think the obvious use for it would be for transport. I’d heard that the police believed Penguin to be one of the main ring leaders of the trade of stolen goods – that criminals sought him out when they wanted to shift their loot without anyone tracing it back to them. The police had never been able to charge him for it, because they never managed to collect enough proof to prove it. Looking around the large empty room, I could see now why – there was nothing here.

Eventually I reached the other side of the room and my torch fell on several doors in the wall that must lead deeper into the warehouse. If what Frost said was true, there shouldn’t be any problem with me continuing to explore – there shouldn’t be anyone else here, but J and maybe a few of his men. Besides – Frost had clearly got caught up in something else so I might as well entertain myself whilst I waited – if only to stop myself freezing to death – it might be warmer back there after all.

I examined the doors before choosing the one on the far right. I pulled at, then pushed it, but no use. It was locked. I frowned in annoyance but moved to the next one, trying it and was almost surprised when this one swung open. I shrugged to myself – I guessed this one would do -  and so I headed inside.

The door was heavy and it swung closed behind me, the sudden thud making me jump slightly. Immediately though, I felt warmer thanks to the closer walls and the reduced airflow. I could feel my heart beating quickly, the silence and poor field of vision keeping me on edge, even though I tried to convince myself that there was nothing waiting for me in the darkness ahead.

I steeled myself and continued down the corridor until some concrete stairs which appeared to have a strip of carpet down the center. It just felt typical of Penguin – try to make everything look luxurious, even concrete. I climbed the stairs none the less, trying to remind myself I was the only one here. At the top of the stairs I reached a hallway that ran from left to right. I paused - wondering which way to go - when I heard a thudding noise from my right. To me it sounded almost like someone was hitting something else. Then I heard it – a high pitch, if slightly pained, laugh echoing down the corridor. I froze instantly. I guess I had found the Joker.

Clearly, he was busy doing something – something I probably, once again, didn’t want to know about or be a part of. I went to turn around and head back down the stairs, but then the noise renewed and the laughter sounded again. I froze once more. The laugh struck me as wrong. It was different to the many times I’d heard it before, more forced, more echoing. It hid something.

I couldn’t help myself, I headed down the hall in the direction I had heard the sound, keeping my feet light on the wooden floors beneath me - though they still creaked under my weight causing me to freeze in place each time, though I saw no other movement in the dark corridor.

The noise got louder as I carried on down the hall till I saw a door outlined with light in the darkness. I shut off my torch, tucking it into my jean pocket and moved towards the door outline, pressing myself up against the wall to the left of it. The noise was undeniably coming from behind the door, the thudding clear through the thin door, each of the Joker’s laughs sounding shaky and out of breath straight after each thumping noise.

The Joker wasn’t giving the punches. He was taking them.

That wasn’t right, the only people in here should be Joker’s men.

I had to do something, but I didn’t know what. I crouched down and reached for the door knob on the other side of the door to me, turning it silently and ever so slightly pushing the door open giving me a tiny window into the room.

I couldn’t see anything expect a small strip of the room and what looked like a part of a chair, but the sound reached me clearer now.

“Truss him up, lads.” Gave a familiar squawk that sounded like it was right next to me. I jumped but, upon darting my gaze around frantically, I soon realized the voice had come through the thin wall next to me. “Don’t be gentle.” Added Penguin and I could almost hear the sinister grin in his voice as he enjoyed the show. Just then I caught movement in my small crack in the doorway, two men came in and out of view as they move, appearing to me dragging a body across the room, quiet pathetic giggles bubbling up from the limp figure. I recognized the bright green hair immediately as they towed the body - though it was no longer slicked back into its usual neat style - instead it looked knotted and messy, strands falling forward over his face which I couldn’t see.

The two men appeared to throw J onto the chair at the edge of my view, and - though I couldn’t see most of him - I saw his arm fall limp by his side and I had to stop myself from gasping. The shirt sleeve was rolled up to his elbow and his usual pale lower arm was covered in red lashes, smudges of blood smeared across the skin.

The men grabbed at him, heaving him so he sat up straighter and I shifted in my crouch position to try and see J better. I could see his face now and this time I had to cover my mouth to stop the cry from my lips. His face was decorated with different shades of bruising, one of his eyes swollen and blood ran down his chin from his nose and busted lip. His shirt was torn and filthy, every inch of skin I could see was beaten and discolored just like his face and arm and there were bruises around his throat - as though a rope-like device had been pulled tight around his neck.

He didn’t bother to struggle against their man handling, letting them do what they wanted with protest. I returned my gaze to his face again where he had a permanent grin stretched across his face as he continued to chuckle quietly to himself even though he didn’t seem able to keep his head up anymore.

The image of him slumped there, battered and abused pained my chest, pulling painfully at my heart.

Some people might have thought he deserved – would have turned and left him there to suffer like he, himself had done many times before – but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

 tags: @6fish6 @carouselcurls @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @toxic-ink @blondieinthecity @cybergingersalad @viraldragonrider @ohmystarscam @nattalie-z

(sorry if you asked to be tagged and I've forgotten to! Just send me a message telling me I'm a fool and I'll make sure to include you!

[glittering-moonlillie]

Love at First Sight (Damian Wayne x reader)

Word Count: 1,199

Summary: While the rest of his family are off trying to fend off Gotham from a deadly attack, Damian is forced to keep the civilians calm and save them from the carnage imposed by Joker. High off a victory, Damian bumps into a mysterious someone and immediately feels an unwanted connection.

Warnings: Slight Barbara slander(?)

Gotham was ablaze. The shadowy night contrasted with the passionate crimson flames burning into the sky, buildings slowly caving in on top of each other. The people were in a panic, running into the streets with the few belongings they could grasp, most of which being pets or little trinkets. It had been a while since Gotham was this terribly under attack, making it harder for Damian and the rest of his family to take control of the situation. 

Chaos bloomed around Damian like a sickening flower. Batman had told him that he was in charge of keeping the civilians in line and making sure they were away from any harm to come their way. Normally, this would be a job for his older brother Tim, but his father had thought that it would be a good growing opportunity for himself; although Damian was not fond of this idea, he knew better than to complain. 

The voice of Oracle came through his comm system. “Robin, there’s a burning building about to collapse on the far east of Crime alley with a family of four. You need to get there now,”

Damian let out a small hum of confirmation before grappling his way to the falling building. He jumped, following the direction he fired the hook. As his body flew through the air, the youngest Robin couldn’t help but feel a sense of freedom - he felt accomplished, like he had a purpose, and with purpose comes control; a control that Damian desperately desired to cling onto in his hectic life. 

If his name were Robin, he deserved to fly like one. 

By the time Damian got to the designated location, the top half of the building had mostly fallen apart. Smoke rose from the building at a dangerous level. The screams of children pierced the air, and as Damian got closer, he realized that it was the family. They were wedged in the staircase of the building, fire surrounding them and effectively preventing them from reaching safety. Without another word, Damian ran over to the building, using his cape as protection from the smoke. 

Damian’s mind raced, trying to think of the most operative way of saving all four members of the family. As he assessed, there were really only two options: either through the burning window or down through the ablaze living room and out the door. Both options, admittedly, were terrible and would require immense agility from the family, and judging that they took in copious amounts of carbon monoxide already, they wouldn’t have the speed needed to get out through the door, even with his help.

“Oh dear Lord, please help us, Robin!” The older woman had said, her voice weak and grainy. A subtle warm and bubbling feeling arose in Damian’s chest at the words, but he managed to push it down before he could actually assess it. He planted himself down on the remaining staircase, silently thanking his father for his fireproof suit. 

“The only way out is through the window and out onto the street. I’ll grab you guys one by one and grapple us down to safety.” Robin said. 

“But how can you do that, won’t you drop us?” The child’s voice tremored. Robin’s eye twitches and it took him a moment before properly responding. This was the exact reason why he loathed working with civilians…

“You’ll just have to trust me. I promise I won’t let you go.” He managed a crooked smile which seemed to soothe the children’s worries enough to carry them one by one out of the window and onto the safe pavement. 

“Damn…this whole city is in chaos and you took the time to save us,” The father stated, “Thank you, Robin.” The warm feeling Damian had felt before resurfaced again, this time in force. It worsened further when the two boys he saved gave him a surprise hug. Out of habit, the youngest Robin stiffened. He failed to miss the glimmer in the boys’ eyes when they looked up at him. 

He was able to save them, and for once in his life Damian accepted the emotion he was feeling - happiness. 

A voice broke his train of thought. “Will we be okay, Robin? What if someone else comes and tries to hurt us again?”

“I…I won’t allow it. No more bad guys will harm you or your family again, I swear by it.” Damian slowly pulled away from the children before awkwardly giving them both a head pat. 

The familiar buzz of Oracle’s voice came through his comms once more. “Wow, that was pretty impressive, Robin. Maybe we should get you and Red Robin to trade places permanently.”

“If you say that again I might feel inclined to poke a hole in one of your tires,” He grumbled. “Besides, just because I do not like most people does not mean I am incapable of saving them one-on-one.” 

Anything else Oracle had said was blocked out by Damian, who was still high from his heroics; nevertheless there was still more saving to accomplish. Gunshots and screams were still the background music of this city and he wouldn’t stop until he changed it for the better. 

At least, that was his plan until he managed to bump into someone and completely lost his train of thought. It was a lapse of judgment on his part, really. He should have been paying attention to his surroundings, especially on this night. Damian turned to mutter a quick apology only to feel a rush of attraction violently hit his face. He had bumped into a girl, a girl with the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. The background seemed to fade away as all he could focus on was her - her eyes, her face, her delicate hands, everything. 

It was the same for the girl; she felt everything fade into a Fourth of July night as she stared at the legendary Robin. Blood had decorated parts of his costume like splattered paint and his dark hair was a disheveled mess. Everything about him exuded confidence, as if Gotham’s siege was as easy to take care of as a load of laundry. She treated it as a sign of hope, hope for the wellbeing of herself and the city. There was something else though, something more foreign. A feeling of belonging and connection embraced them both. 

The interaction lasted only a moment, an excruciatingly short moment before everything reverted back to normal. Damian blinked away his fuzziness while the girl quickly turned to hide her blushing features. It was all so sudden, this immense feeling, that they could only run away from each other. 

Tearing away from each other felt like dragging away two magnets destined to connect. The sensation Damian was feeling completely went against everything he believed in. It was too brash, too annoyingly persistent no matter how hard he tried to push down the feeling.  It took everything in his power not to turn back and gaze at the girl. He felt the remaining control he thought he had in his life vanish in his hands.

These emotions he was feeling were too unstable, insatiable even, to be trusted...

I will probably write a part two of this that will focus on a more romantic perspective. I wasn't originally going to write out the whole family saving scene, but I ended up getting carried away (;w;). Fun Fact: This is also the first proper one shot that I have written in over a year! The writing might be rusty but hopefully the story still stands!!

[jslittlebirdie]

Take My Hands

Pairing: Soft!Ledger!Joker x Reader

Summary: You are tired, stressed and exhausted. But J gives you comfort by letting you hold his hands.

Word count: 1,213

Genre: fluffy comfort / self-insert

Warnings: none

Notes: I'm back with my way too soft characterization. But that's what I need right now. Because this is a self-insert and exactly what I would like to do with J. I'm longing for a break and a bit of softness. I hope this little fic brings some joy and comfort to others as well. Unedited.

Taglist: @ajokeformur-ray @sacredempressnatlyia @rommies

Another long and stressful day is slowly coming to an end. As Gotham City is slowly engulfed by the darkness of the night, you and J are sitting together on the sofa in your living room. Your back flat against his broad chest while he has both arms wrapped tightly around you, his leather clad hands resting in your lap. Your body shakes from exhaustion as you press a little closer to him to feel as much of him as possible. If you could, you would probably crawl under his skin so that he could envelop you completely and you would be safe from this cruel and overwhelming world. Only the warmth and safety of your beloved clown around you. Kind of ironic that you feel that way with him, considering who he is and how he acts when he isn't with you. But to you, he's so much more than just Gotham's most feared criminal. He's your love, your home. A small barely audible sob escapes your lips. And of course, J notices your attitude, he shushes you softly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and places a tender kiss on your temple. Something that immediately makes you melt. Oh, how much you love him.

You lazily turn your head and watch him for a while. His dark rimmed eyes are fixed on the TV and you see the corner of his mouth twitching upwards every now and then into a sly smirk as the reporter talks about his latest crimes. Normally, you would have asked him about his day and joyfully listened to everything he had to say. You love to listen to his wonderful gravelly voice, especially when he was full of excitement talking about his ideas. His giggles and cackles. The way he changes his voice when he makes fun of his henchmen. But you are tired. So tired…

You shift a little, your head resting against his shoulder, and bring your hands forward to meet his. You slowly and reverently trace the stitchings of his purple gloves. Even through the leather, you can feel the warmth radiating from him. In some places the material is already scuffed, dirt and stains of the day's work. But you find them incredibly pretty and if they weren't much too big, you would have stolen them long ago. Like his shirt. When you told him once, he replied that he will just hide them on a high shelf so that you can't reach them. That's how small you are. You can still hear him chuckling at his own joke.

You play with the hem of his gloves where leather stops and his wrists are exposed. Fingers move and you carefully tamper with the buckle that holds the garment in place. For a brief moment, your eyes meet as J notices what you're doing. You smile at him, heat rising in your cheeks, and he gives you one of his beautiful grins. He knows how much you love to do all this. Even if he doesn't quite understand what's so special about it. But somehow he likes it and he secretly basks in the tenderness you give him. A low hum of appreciation rumbles in his chest, so you continue, first freeing one hand and then the other.

And his hands are large. Especially compared to yours. Hands that are skillful and work with deadly precision. Hands that can destroy and take lives so easily. But also hands that are always gentle with you. You can feel the ghost of his touch on your body and you sigh softly. His touches make you feel safe, comfortable and loved. You trust him. Again, something that sounds incredibly ironic, but it's true. You know he's not going to hurt you. He decided against it a long time ago. Instead, he decided to stay with you and allow you to slowly sneak into his heart. Yes, that's exactly what you do. Every time you are together like this, you sneak a little more into his heart. To the point that every now and then he catches himself longing for you when he's out for his business. Not that he would ever admit that.

Your fingertips move over his veins that stand out so delicately until you reach the first knuckles of his fingers. His nails probably need to be clipped again soon, but there will be time for that later. You let out a breathy giggle and shake your head as you think of his reaction, how he would roll his eyes and groan dramatically. Then you turn his hands so that you can touch his palms and trace the fine lines. His skin is rough and calloused, but soft at the same time. Remnants of paint on his slender fingers, from when he put the makeup on his pretty face. If it were up to you, he wouldn't need to hide behind it. Scars or not. They are a part of him and you love all parts of him equally. To you, he's the most beautiful and handsome man, nothing can and will ever change that.

When you think you worshipped this part of his hands enough, you turn them over again. Here too, you see various small pale scars his past and job have left on his skin. Cuts, burns and even something that looks like an old gunshot wound. Your heart hurts... Sometimes it hurts so badly that you secretly wish he would cut it out and keep it. Of course, you are speaking only metaphorically. But your silly heart belongs to him and him alone. Your urge to love on him only gets stronger. You want to kiss each of his knuckles separately, every inch of his skin. So you decide to put your thoughts into action. You bring his right hand to your lips and kiss it. You pepper small, soft kisses on the entire back of his hand and pay extra attention to the marks. A cheesy thought pops into your head. - If I could, I would kiss away all his scars and bad memories. - A single tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, hoping he didn't notice. You're sure he doesn't like knowing how many tears you're shedding over him. But you can't help it.

You hear J sigh. Again, beautiful dark and chocolate brown eyes look at you. And if you didn't know him so well, you would miss that something soft is swirling in them. But you do know him well enough and so you get to read all the little signs of his love language. Right now you understand him very clearly. He makes you feel so content, calm and happy that you only get sleepier and you yawn. Your eyes become heavier and heavier with each passing second.

"Aww, seems like someone needs to sleep, hm?" J chuckles with mock sympathy and wraps his arms around you again. "It's fine, toots. Just rest for me, okay?" - You're safe, I'm not going anywhere. - Another tender kiss on your temple. - I love you, Y/N.

Finally, you close your eyes and let your tiredness get the better of you. But not without intertwining your fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze. You smile and whisper, "I love you too, J… Thank you."

[toomanyrobins2]

Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

[americancowgirl19]

Old Times

Summary: You find your purpose in hopes of easing your conscious. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, this is a part 2/sequel

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 1,878

A/n: I thought I would tag you two since you mentioned you guys wanted a part two; @pleasestophoney​ @graysonswonder​

Masterlist - Part One (Eight Year)

Fuck whoever said knowing was the better choice. Knowing sucked and you wished that you were back to being in the dark about the things you’ve done. Sure, when you couldn’t remember your mind filled in the blanks for you. You would imagine what you had done. You’re imagination was far more merciful compared to the truth.

Your memories returned to you mainly at night, although you got flashes during the day if you were ‘lucky’. As time passed you became more and more aware of how dangerous and deadly you had become. In the last eight years, you were a merciless killing machine that made the Joker look like a fucking kitty cat.

The more you remembered the more you considered handing yourself over to the members of the League that wanted your head. You understood their need for revenge. Hell, if someone had done to you what you had done to them, you’d be demanding justice yourself.

You shared your father’s rule of no killing, at least you did before you were taken, but you knew you’d break that rule if someone killed anyone in your family. In fact, if you weren’t so scared of reverting into a mindless beast you would have torn the Joker apart for killing Jason. But you feared if you killed him, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

“What’re you doing out here?” Dick questions groggily. You turn your head just enough to see him in your peripheral vision. You had been sitting on the balcony of your shared apartment in Bludhaven for a couple of hours now.

It was one of the rare nights Dick had come home early. Bludhaven was quiet thus prompting Dick to return home to you sooner than usual. Since your return a couple of months ago, Dick continued being Bludhaven’s Nightwing. 

You weren’t ready to join him as Nightshade. Although, that didn’t stop you from using your enhanced hearing to keep track of him. If he was in a trouble he couldn’t get out of, you could get to him within a minute. Luckily he hasn’t needed you yet. You doubted he would. He has survived eight years without you.

You felt guilty for not staying in bed with him. You only got him to yourself so often but you didn’t want to keep him up with your restlessness. He needed his sleep.

Dick joins you on the patio loveseat. He looks at you before sliding his arm around your waist. You shuffle as he pulls you onto his lap. His natural warmth engulfs you. You almost moan as you settle into his comforting embrace.

“I have the day off tomorrow,” Dick mutters, resting his head on yours. You hum snuggling closer to him.

“You have the day off or you’re taking the day off?” You wonder.

“Either way you’ve got me all day tomorrow... later today,” He corrects himself noticing that it’s technically early morning instead of late at night.

“You don’t have to take off work to babysit me,” You mumble.

“I don’t have to do anything but I want to spend the day with you tomorrow,” He tells you. Having grown up with his stubbornness, you let it go. “It’s gonna be a sunny day. I thought I’d take you to a market in the next town over,” A small smile comes to your lips. “Do you wanna try and get some more sleep?

“I was actually debating pouring a stiff drink,” You admit. “I’m gonna have to see if Wally will talk to me and give me some of that strong shit he drinks cause what you have tastes like water,” Dick scoffs.

“You used to get fucked off of three beers,” Dick mutters.

“Then I got super metabolism and cheap drinking went out the window,” You grumble. Dick kisses the crown of your head.

“I’ll give him a call,” He whisper. 

“Diana sent you an email while you were asleep,” You tell him. He hums questionably. “They’re making a memorial for the fallen... I wonder if they’ll ask me to be a guest speaker,” You snark sarcastically. Dicks grip around you tightens. “I guess they figured since I’m ‘back-to-normal’ there won’t be anymore mass superhero killings,” Your eyes become misty. “She was nice enough to put a list attachment,” You voice shakes. “Katherine, John, Oliver... Donna,” You clench your eyes as you slowly breakdown.

“Hey, hey, stop,” You shift to straddle his waste. You cling to him, your head falling into his neck. He pets the back of your head and rub circles into your back. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright,” You try to keep collected even though you’re falling apart. “Y/n, look at me.. Please, baby,” You reluctantly pull from his neck. He presses his head against yours. “Tell me what to do, how can I help?”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you just move your head back to the crook of his neck. His arms lock around you as tightly as he can hoping that he can hold you together.

How could you come to terms with what happened? It’s not like there’s a shrink that could be trusted with the information in your mind. It’s not like that many people knew what you were going through. You just wanted to be normal again.

When you calmed down, Dick continued to hold you tightly. You would sniffle here and there but other than that neither of you made any noise. When you slowly began to drift off, Dick stood from the loveseat. His hands held you securely to his chest as he carried you back to bed.

When you both laid down, you faced each other. There was hardly space between you but enough to look at each other. The light of the moon gave just enough light to be able to see prominent features of his face.

“It won’t be like this forever,” He promises, brushing his fingers across your cheek. Your eyes slowly begin to close.

“Do you think there’ll be an antique shop by the market tomorrow?” You wonder.

“I’m sure we can find one,” He whispers, tugging you to his chest. You snuggle close, lightly kissing his peck.

When the sun rose, neither of your were necessarily in a hurry to leave the comfort of the bed. It wasn’t until a little past noon did you two finally get up. You tried to be uplifting and happy as you went through the market but settled for content and not sobbingly falling apart.

You had nearly a half an hour of peaceful normalcy until you picked up on someone following you. You didn’t know if Dick noticed but you began directing him to a secluded alley. You were halfway down when you sensed something coming toward you.

Instinctively, you spun around and pushed Dick behind you. You hand flew up and caught the red arrow. Toward the end of the alley stood someone you used to get along with but now looked at you with murderous intent. You pushed Dick a good few feet away from you seconds before the arrow exploded. The explosion only singed parts of your outfit.

“Roy!” Dick snapped, glaring at the redhead. 

“Why do you get to walk away?” Roy snapped, gripping his bow. “You hunt us down and kill us for eight years.” He snarls.

“That wasn’t her, Roy” Dick tells him. “She didn’t have a choice,”

“How convenient for her,” Roy snaps. You cast your gaze to the ground in shame.

“What are you doing here Roy? What do you want?” Dick asks, standing with you shoulder-to-shoulder.

“I want justice,” Roy snaps. “You don’t get to slaughter people and just walk away,”

“It wasn’t her,” Dick growls, clenching his fists. “She wasn’t in control, she-”

“I’ll stand trial,” You cut Dick off. His head whips around to you. “The league will decide what happens,”

“They’ve already voted on what to do with you,” Dick reminds both you and Roy. “They know you weren’t in control. You’re just as much a victim as the others,” You look at Dick, your mind reeling.

“Then lets get the bastard that pulled my strings,” You say. You turn your head to Roy.

“They’ve already tried finding the ones that took you,” Roy says.

“Yeah, well they didn’t have me,” You tell him. “I have a better chance than anyone at finding them. You want justice? I want redemption. Let’s avenge those that died,” Roy stares at you, obviously intrigued with the idea. “I can’t do it alone, I’ll need help,”

“We’ll need a team,” Dick says. “Those we trust,” He emphasized. The last thing he wanted was someone convinced you were the problem and trying to kill you in your sleep. He would already have his hands full with the mission and keeping an eye on Roy.

“Have anyone in mind?” Roy tilts his head. 

“A few,” You mutter.

Within a couple of weeks, your team was put together. You convinced Conner to come so that you would have added muscle and someone strong enough to stand against you should the ones you’re going after rescramble your mind. Wally joined mainly to keep the mood lifted and tensions as low as possible. His naturally happy aurora would hopefully keep Roy from turning against you all and to keep him fighting with Dick. 

Plus him and Conner were your friends before all this happened and were the few that remained by your side after all these years.

The last to join was Jason. You added the Joker to the list of people you needed to take down. You wanted him because one, he’s your brother, and two, he’s willing to kill. He knew how to do what needed to be done and most of the people you were going after didn’t deserve a trial nor a second chance.

The six of you were a large and qualified team. You knew not to underestimate you opponent. You knew how to work together. And you all had a reason to fight.

For the first time you felt like you had a purpose, a true and righteous purpose.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Dick, dressed in his Nightwing, costume questions stepping up to you. You smile, readjusting your mask.

It didn’t feel right to become Nightshade again. You weren’t that person anymore. You were someone else now. Tim redesigned your costume as you donned a new name.

“This is something I need to do,” You tell him. “I don’t know if it’ll settle the nightmares or ease the guilt but hopefully it’ll give others a sense of closure if we get them and prevent this from happening again,”

“Ok,” Dick mutters, nodding. “If this gets too much, step back and let us handle it,”

“Please,” You smirk. “Without me, you idiots would be running around like chickens without a head,” Dick smirks widely. “Don’t worry so much, baby, it’ll be like old times,” You wink kissing his cheek. The simple kiss isn’t enough for him. His arm instantly slings around your waist and pulls you against him.

Dick presses his lips against yours. You breathe slowly through your nose and lean against him.

“Just like old times,” He murmurs against your lips.

[rosesloveletters]

Gunmetal.

pairing: Heath Ledger Joker x Fem. Reader

word count: 5,944

warnings: gunplay, fingering, language, blood, medical procedure (stitches)

summary: When you delve into a person’s mind, you find the strangest things; ‘guns are too quick’, J says, ‘you can’t savor all of those little emotions’…perhaps, for one brief moment, J had been wrong.

requested by anonymous: Hello, do you still take requests? I was wondering if you could write a Ledger!Joker fic with smut (gun kinkkkkk and if you’re comfortable the reader getting off on the gun) and aftercare ( cuddles+J trying to cook something for the reader but him accidentally hurting himself so the reader has to stitch him up) ? I also wanted to tell you how I admire your work and what a lovely person you are! Have a nice day :)

notes: Thank you so much for this request, darling! I am SO SORRY it took me this long to fulfill it, but I hope that the length of this piece makes up for it. I have never written anything like this before, so I am really hoping that it turned out alright. I actually researched the proper way to do DIY suturing and I let J put his spin on it lmao. I really appreciate your kind words as well, darling! It means so much to me that you like my work :’) Enjoy!

J had learned all the things that drove you mad with lust, the things that tore straight through you like a blade turned red from fire and forge and scorched your once-pristine soul until your very flesh went up in flames. He sought after those things which made you incoherent with fervent ache and it mattered not how he learned them, but how quickly he could acquire that knowledge and apply it.

You were nothing but a blank canvas to which J wielded each of his weapons, resembling that of an artist’s beloved utensils, with care; a starless night were you and J was the painter who dotted each and every last tiny speck of white into the void.

He had learned to interpret every tiny change in your voice; he knew exactly what he needed to do to leave you breathless and clinging to him for dear love. He lived for the noises you made and he delighted in your quiet moans of pleasure and the way your breathing changed at the will of his measured dedication.

He never thought he would experience that same level of intensity at which you fucked, full of wicked passion and raw, inescapable brutality. It was animalistic and licentious, tinged with a certain malevolence and bloodier even than some of J’s most viscous kills; you were agreeable, having had your eyes opened to a whole new world.

That state of mind was not one you could have believed would come to someone like you.

And even though you could not have been more different, your blackened souls fit like two centerpieces of a puzzle, even if your edges were jagged.

When you delve into a person’s mind, you find the strangest things; ‘guns are too quick’, J says, ‘you can’t savor all of those little emotions’…perhaps, for one brief moment, J had been wrong.

“J…” your lips parted to expel one syllable from a single exhale like it were the only coherent sound you could make and there was a good chance that it was. Your tone was heady with desire, a billowing of smoke from the swath of flames that had been ignited within you at the lone touch of cold metal to your heated skin; the irony of it all made you light-headed and your vision rippled, undulating at the edges like you were looking through a clear glass puddle.

The man in question cared little for such nuances when he was met with them, yet he still held the inexplicable desire to coax them out of you each and every time.

You maintained a grip on J’s shoulder for balance and anchorage, fearful were you to let go in any case that the rest of the world might slip out from under you, as the barrel of an unloaded handgun brushed over one hardened nipple. You gasped at the contact and arched into that simple touch, body seeking friction and attention from only the second most deadly thing that was in your bedroom that night, the first being the one who wielded it.

The smooth steel rapidly warmed in J’s hand; he positioned the gun at the base of your navel as he watched you squirm, his bloodied lips parting in a twisted version of a smile. You were right where he wanted you; it was not enough.

J would only give in to what you desired when you were delirious and close to tears, bound in raw, sweltering sexual arousal and the sheer, excruciating excitement was too much for your delicate system to handle. Only then would J relent and be merciful; how long you could remain impassive towards this state was unclear, but J’s ministrations were firm and coaxing, easing you slowly into the unknown until you were unable to protest and then he would pull you under the weight of his current where you remained captive until you could no longer breathe.

That was the way things worked with J, you had come to realize, and no matter how much you scrabbled for purchase he was the one to push you over the precipice.

Excruciatingly slowly did J lower the deadly weapon in between your legs, the cold metal a stark contrast against your skin which felt as though it were on fire. Everything that J did to you scorched a path of flame with every touch, every ghosting of his fingertips left a black imprint on your soul and you loved him all the more for it.

Everything that J did to you came at a price; the vehemence in his touches were clear: your gratification was worthwhile to him and that itself seemed almost like a lapse in judgement.

You spread your legs, unbidden, and the appreciative noise that J made spoke volumes of his respect for your quick-witted obedience. His hand tightened minutely on the weapon as he probed forward, stroking your slick folds and gathering your wetness for ease of entry. You mumbled incoherently as you arched against the weapon, enraptured by J’s careful attention to detail and exhilarated were you for his next move. A chess game had your lives become and delicate must every calculation be so not to fall behind; you had not been anticipating this move. J had the upper-hand and never had you been more eager to hand him the reigns.

There was some distinct carnality in the way of using a gun for pleasure, an oddity that drew you closer to J and for that were you grateful. Nothing could have swayed your decision in that moment, perhaps even J himself, to reconsider. You laid motionless beneath him, a testament to his ownership, as wanton moans escaped your lips. Unsurprisingly skilled was J in the art and understanding of weaponry; for all you had known, guns were a simple black and white, how little you knew that there was more to J than life or death.

It was not the way in which a gun was responsible for death, but the one who wielded it and how they chose to use it.

‘Guns are not quick after all, J mused, ‘perhaps those who prefer to use guns are too quick to pull the trigger.’

Your hips lifted slightly above the plush mattress and J guided the tip of the gun along your slit. His fingers were sticky with your juices and his scars pulled taut and creased as he grinned, spindly as if crawling up his cheeks like a spider. Unforgiving metal grazed your swollen clit and you jolted, aware of your reflexes and how you had nearly bumped heads with him as J leered over you. He managed to keep hold of the gun, putting a bit more distance between the two of you as he probed lower still and kept his hand wrapped tightly around the grip.

“Relax, doll,” J cooed, silver tongue of his coming out to play, “don’t, ah, tense up.”

He spoke to you so soothingly it was impossible not to do as you were told. You felt your muscles beginning to relax again as J positioned the gun at your entrance for the second time in the last five minutes; you suppressed a cry as the tip of the barrel slipped inside of you.

J had not needed to prep you more than what little had already been done. The thought alone of this man doing a thing like this to you was enough to leave you soaking. Your body shivered and pleasantly convulsed as J withdrew the gun and slowly slid it back inside, deeper and deeper with each languid thrust. He was mirroring his own movements he had grown so accustomed to while he pleasured you with his body; he was careful to mimic what you were used to and did not exceed what he was aware you could handle. It was a science J knew better than all, for he knew you. He knew what was too much, but also he knew what was just what you needed…

“Oh, J!” Your low moan made his eyes flicker to yours, checking to make sure he had not unintentionally harmed you, but your eyes told a different story. You were watching his arm and the way his taut muscles bunched and flexed beneath the haphazardly hexagonal patterned shirt he donned. Lust pooled inside your pupils like swirling galaxies of desire; you were pleased thus far and you had J to thank for that.

“Ya like that, doll?” he crooned, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his scars, “want more?”

To his great pleasure, you nodded and J let the barrel slide in a little further, daring to see just how deeply he could reach without having you cry out in pain. Your hips bucked slightly as J found his rhythm, thrusting the gun in and out of you as he would have with his fingers. The weapon was an extension of them, no differently than it would have been outside of the bedroom.

Your arousal had leaked onto the sheets the longer you felt the gun inside of you, the cold metal warming from your tender, heated core. J edged you closer and closer to your peak, yet something told you J was after much, much more. His eyes darkened maliciously and, without preamble, he had removed the barrel from your aching core and swiftly replaced it with two gloved fingers. You cried out at the drastic change in size; the gloves made his long fingers thicker and you keened as his index finger forced its way in deep and stroked you in a come-hither motion.

You whimpered, your sticky juices coating his leather gloves and J leaned in close, “get on your knees.”

“J…” you mumbled and J tutted.

“Do not…argue.”

His tone had taken on a deep timbre as he growled lowly into your ear and without much choice were you hauled onto your knees as he had asked of you. Your mind swam with possibilities and you were beginning to feel lightheaded again; J retracted his fingers and used the thick stitching on his gloves to his advantage as he massaged your sensitive bud, goading you and inching you closer and closer to orgasm.

J would not let you experience that kind of pleasure so soon; the desirous look in your eyes left him with a slight twinge of guilt, but it faded almost as fast as your approaching climax did once he left your clit entirely.

You whimpered pitifully, but J did not leave you waiting long. His fingers closed around the gun as he brought it in between your legs and repositioned it so that you could sink onto it. A change of pace, it seemed, but you were wiser. J did not receive any physical gratification from this, but the implication was there; he wanted to see you riding it, his innocent little bunny riding the weapon of his choice did nothing to lessen the unbearable, aching erection in his pants.

You desperately sought his approval, in all things, and thus did you begin to ride the gun with vigor as he held it steady for you, “is this what you wanted me to do, J?” you asked timidly.

The man’s feral growl made your insides shudder and you almost came on the spot from that sound alone, “fuck…” he hissed, matching you thrust for thrust as the slick barrel slid further inside of you, “that’s the way, sweets. Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed no further encouragement. You rode the gun as you would have ridden him, deliberate and firm and full of desperate need. J babbled soft praises and words of approval to you as you rode the weapon, but your focus was trained solely on the sound. His voice fell to an immeasurably low octave and was raspy like the crunch of gravel under his heavy boots. You wanted J to let you cum, but even more than that, you wanted him to make you feel like this all of the time.

No stranger to sins of the flesh were you whenever J was around. He took you over the edge every chance he could and you loved him all the more for the way he made you feel and the things he did both to you and with you. Suddenly, his lips came crashing down onto yours like raging tidal waves and your hips stuttered, pace faltering as your muscles clenched and seized around the intrusion and your core pulsed rapidly as you came. Pressure was expelled from your abdomen and you felt a warm, tingling feeling rush down your legs as goosebumps sprang up on your skin.

“J…” you breathed, barely able to achieve any sense of coherency as you called his name on a cracked whisper. You were hardly aware of his lingering kisses as your addled mind raced and his scars caressed your soft cheeks; his mangled skin pressed into yours as he nuzzled you, taking it upon himself to comfort you and ease you through your initial burst of emotions. Your mind and body buzzed alike and you felt as though you were wrapped in cotton from head to toe. J coaxed you into a prone position and he extracted the weapon from within you.

He moved off of the bed and went about cleaning you up; he brought a damp cloth in from the bathroom and wiped your legs free of your stickiness. Your eyelids had begun to droop as you resigned yourself to allowing your most intimate area  to being cleaned like this; never would you have allowed anyone other than J to administer cleanliness and aftercare in this way. You trusted him, even if your instincts sometimes left you questioning how wise that fact was.

After you were adequately cleaned off, J returned to the bathroom, this time with the presence of mind to bring the gun, and began to scrub it free of any sensual residue. J kept his thoughts to himself as he cleaned his weapon; it was not unusual for you to hear the quiet mumblings of J filling your ears as he talked quietly to himself, but he was satisfied. No more did he need or want from you that he could not take after you were well-rested and cared for. Another session would come and then it would be his turn. J could wait for the things he wanted most, patient was he when it mattered.

The gun was cleaned and dried and left in a safe place atop your dresser as J exited the bathroom and found you curled on your side underneath the duvet. J made a mental note that he would need to devest your mattress and throw the sheets in the wash before the night was over, but for now he clambered in behind you, yanking the corner of the sheet out of your grip as he settled in. J’s broad frame fit snugly against your back and you pressed in against him, bodies connecting and solidifying his presence in your mind and in your life. Sometimes the prospect that J was both real and yours was too much for you to imagine and so a constant physical reminder became something that you craved.

His legs bent at the knee and framed yours as you laid against him. His big toe probed at one of the bottoms of your feet and you snorted, “what are you doing?”

He grunted and leaned over you, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear; you turned, unable to keep your hands off of him, and embraced him. You nuzzled happily into his chest, inhaling his usual musk.

He smelled different these days and it had taken you a while to determine what it was that you could not pinpoint. Every time this week that you had held him had been the same; J was not strict on hygiene and your only hope was that what you had been smelling was not the result of that, but no. What you smelled on him was familiar and pleasant, like that of a home from whence you had long visited and that you could not return to, not until now. What you smelled on J was much stronger than that. It awakened your very soul, a bolt of lightning which struck you and traveled directly down your spine and filled you with new life and breath. You felt it pull on you like an invisible string tied directly to his heart; on him did you smell you.

You began to kiss his neck, the tender spot beneath his jaw that his makeup did not touch and which always elicited a pleasant response from him every time you laved at it. His gentle moan of gratitude for the attention was music to your ears and, as you continued, you listened quietly for any other signs of approval he might give. His skin smelled of sweat and rainwater; you loved his scent and J knew it.

You nipped his neck, delivering love-bites to the spots you knew drove him wild. Slowly and with carefully measured gyrations did you rut against him, desperate to ignite that fire once more and give him exactly what you knew he longed for. J’s low growl resonated in your chest as much as his own and you took it as a sign of encouragement; your hand slipped between your two bodies, searching lower for the hardened flesh you knew would be there.

Your stomach growled and, just as quickly as it had all begun, J snatched your hand away from his crotch.

“What are you doing?” you grumbled, sitting up indignantly with a slight harumph as J was nearly out of bed already.

“Ain’t that clear?” his response matched your indignance, “makin’ ya somethin’ to eat.”

“J, you don’t have to do that. I am perfectly capable of-”

“I’m gonna,” he countered and the look in his eyes said ‘try and stop me’.

Knowing that any protests would be futile, you said nothing more as J strode from the bedroom and retreated to the kitchen to supposedly bring you food. It was somewhat unlike him to offer so much to you without having given to him in turn. There would be a time and place for you to pay back this favor, however J was not so cruel as to make you wait for a meal.

You stretched out on the bed and waited with bated breath, barely able to quell your giggles as you heard him banging around in the kitchen doing heaven knows what.

All too quickly had it become quiet again and you soon found yourself beginning to slip into a state of consciousness to which you rarely, if ever, have visited. You were aware that J would be bringing you something to eat soon and yet that did nothing to slow the inevitable; you found yourself missing J’s warmth as you laid on your side, facing away from the door. To what end would you go to if it meant having him beside you once more?

Almost asleep are you, pondering those possibilities, when the bedroom door bursts open, swinging on its henges until crashing into the wall behind. You nearly jumped out of your skin and you sat up quickly and deliberately looked his way, but J had returned much too quickly to have had the time to prepare anything of substance like he had seemed to be insinuating he would. Surely he was not this fast and the fact that he did not stop by your bed gave little remedy to the sinking feeling in your stomach that something was wrong. That, and as J made his way silently towards the bathroom, you noticed an abrupt change in his appearance that he had removed his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his right forearm that he was cradling to his chest like a delicate newborn. Something was wrong, you knew for certain, but what that something was you knew not.

J had not stopped in his haste to get into the bathroom and he had tried to kick the door shut but the door itself was not heavy enough to close without deliberately being shut. It had swung inward just enough for J’s reflection to be visible inside the mirror; you could see him digging inside your medicine cabinet, though you could not tell what he was after. A moment later, as you stumbled toward the open door did you catch a glimpse of the arm that was encased in blue, hexagonal fabric and the flash of red that had crossed your vision gave you pause.

A barely audible gasp escaped you as you approached the door and peered inside. J had given up on his search within the cabinet, decidedly finding nothing of use for the large, gaping wound on his forearm, and had turned on the faucet at full flow and thrust his arm beneath the spray of tepid water. He seethed in pain as he washed the still-bleeding cut; how it had happened you knew not, but J had sustained a nasty gash on his arm that, from the looks of it, would be unable to heal on its own, at least without stitches. The thick, oozing liquid matched the color he had painted on his scars and you marveled at the morbid beauty of his crimson blood.

He shut off the sink and reached for one of your hand towels, scarlet drops spattering onto the stark white surface of the sink bowl. You pushed open the door with your foot, finally deciding it was time to make your presence known; J did not look up until he had the towel firmly over his arm, pressing it to the cut in an effort to stop the bleeding.

He met your measured gaze and said nothing for a long moment as he assessed the situation and tried to determine what should occur, “you’re, ah…gonna have to stitch me up.”

“I’m what?”

The emphasis you put on those two words was not nearly enough to convey the seriousness of the situation or was indicative to how uncomfortable you felt at this proposition. You had little to no knowledge of this particular aspect of care and, though you knew more than the average person when it came to serious wounds because of J, you were not convinced you had what it took to stitch up a wound of this size.

J held up the arm he was favoring, “As much as I’d like to do it myself,” his response was laced with sarcasm and contempt for the situation that he was currently in, his lips twitching irritably as he fought to control his quick temper, “I can’t get ‘em straight enough with my left hand.”

You weighed your options carefully: you could not take J to the emergency room. He was too easily recognizable and the GCPD would swarm him immediately. You had to handle this here, whether you would do a good job or not remained to be seen, but there was no other alternative and time was running out. The longer the wound remained open left more of a chance of infection; you would have to stitch him up.

“Alright, J,” you relented, “where do you keep your medical supplies?”

You were aware that J had a hidden stash of medical paraphernalia in your house, though where those things were kept you were not privy to. J’s work came at a high risk of injury; it would have been suicide not to have been prepared.

“Check your dresser. Bottom drawer, right side…under your clothes. Should be, ah…a case there with what ya need.”

You nodded and scuttled off to find the supplies that J had hidden in your bedroom. He must have had things scattered throughout your home; it was a miracle he could remember where everything was kept, but so far so good.

You made a beeline for the dresser and tore all of your clothes out of the bottom drawer. Sure enough, on the right side near the back of the drawer itself, was a small black case that was similar in size to a makeup bag. You grabbed it and returned to the bathroom with it.

Under the incandescent glow of the light fixtures, you removed all contents from the black bag: a much smaller case with some wicked-looking needles and other instruments you did not recognize, a couple of spools of thread used specifically for stitches, a couple of half-used rolls of gauze and several large bandages. From the looks of the equipment, it did not appear that J had to use them very often. You were well aware that he had stitched himself up on more than one occasion, but recently he had not come home in need of serious medical care. A couple of bandages and rolls of gauze were necessary here and there, though rarely was much more was ever needed.

You did not ask J how he had gotten this particular cut; the less you knew, the better. Also, because you had a faint idea that perhaps later you might find the knife which had cut him, sticking blade down in the cutting board with dried blood on its’ edges.

You shuddered at the mental image as you peered curiously at the materials in front of you. For all you knew, the needles were already sterilized, but you didn’t ask too many questions that you knew J would not answer anyway.

You were unaware of where the proper place was to start and so you looked to J for answers and found him watching you intently from beneath a hooded gaze, “grab that one, second from the left,” J indicated the second largest, somewhat curved needle within his arsenal, “and, ah…thread it through. Grab the, uh, needle driver and the forceps. You’re gonna start at the end, here.”

You had next to no idea of what J was asking you to grab and he had to point out each instrument to you as if he himself were a doctor. When one often found themselves in situations such as this, one must learn the tools of the trade. He told you how to lock the needle clamp into place and had you pull the thread itself out of the suture kit.

You doubted J used each of these tools as intended when he was the one stitching himself up; one could not be bothered to do as thorough of a job if having to do it yourself.

J let the towel drop away from the cut and your eyes widened at the sheer size of what you were to be working with. You could feel your hands begin to shake; how could you possibly do this?

You felt fingers enclose around your own and you looked down to see J’s left hand reaching for yours, “none of that,” he indicated your shaking hands as he squeezed your fingers only once, “gotta have steady hands for this, sweets.”

You were well aware of what you needed to do; if only your mind and body were in sync could you get the job done. You inhaled, steadying yourself, as you proffered the threaded needle, held within the needle driver, in front of him like he had instructed, “what next?”

“You’re gotta pull it open,” J smirked as he caught your slight grimace, “Just slightly. The forceps will help ya line it up. Gonna stick me right here. Try an’ keep it at a ninety-degree angle. Don’t go in too deep either…I don’t need to be losin’ any more blood.”

Your hands threatened to start shaking again as J methodically explained to you the steps you needed to take and the process to which you would completely stitch up his wound. You had never been asked to do anything remotely similar to this in your entire life and you felt sick at the prospect. You steeled yourself the best you could, trying not to think about the gaping wound in front of you, though it was easier said than done.

At J’s behest did you use the forceps to line up the edges of the cut as he had instructed and push the needle into his skin with measured calculation and accuracy.

J hissed in pain as the needle easily slid through the thin layer of skin and poked out through the other side as he had directed you, making no further exclamations or indication that he was in pain; J’s threshold tolerance for pain had to be high.

“What now?”

J huffed, “unlock the needle driver,” he grumbled; from the tone he was using you could tell he was far from comfortable and so you swiftly did as you were told, wanting to save J the pain and discomfort of an overly lengthy procedure, “reattach it at the tip. Pull a little of the thread through an’ release the needle. After that, you’re gonna use your left hand to hold it and wrap the thread ‘round the tip of the needle holder twice.”

Carefully and to the best of your ability did you follow the words that J was saying; how many times, you wondered, had he done this? The directions he gave you could have been comical, save for the single fact that you were the one doing the stitching. The words he said sounded foreign to you and even though you were quite unaware if you were doing this properly, J had not stopped you.

“I need ya to focus, doll,” J’s voice cut through the fog as you ceased all movement and waited patiently for the next steps, “now, you’re gonna open the needle holder and grab that thread right there…on the right side. Pull the long part with your left hand.”

J watched you carefully, pleased with how well you were doing thus far, “thaaat’s it, there ya go,” he praised you as you did exactly as you were told; he had trained you oh, so well.

You watched as you continued to pull and the part of the thread which was wrapped around the needle holder slid off and you gasped, afraid you had done something wrong, but J shook his head, “that’s good. It’ll do that. Make sure ya tighten it…want that knot to lie flat.”

The corner of J’s eyelid twitched at nearly five second intervals; it was impressive how he had managed to retain his composure to give instructions to you, but then again, what choice did he have? J was an unstoppable force, it seemed, and nothing could topple him. You were beginning to understand more about the man before you than you ever had considered and the knowledge he possessed. J was something of an enigma and you only wished for him to open up to you and provide some source of insight into who he really was, though the only thing about J that was ever opened to you was his body in the form of cuts you would be asked to stitch.

For how badly you longed to delve into his mind, you remained the reason he was closed off.

“Alright, alright, don’t get ahead of yourself,” J inhaled noisily through his nostrils, “Take that long end of the thread and wrap it around there once, just the way ya had before but once this time. Open the needle driver and grab the shorter end now. Pull on the long part there, doll, with your left hand and you’ll pull that knot tight.”

You finished the knot with little difficulty. You were beginning to feel somewhat proud of yourself and the job you were doing; had it not been for J, you never could have done this on your own, but the sheer knowledge that you were the one to have done the deed made you brim with pride.

“Good job, sweets,” J winced as you pulled on the thread and secured the second knot, “do that again, but wrap it counter-clockwise this time. Don’t want the knot to, ah slip.”

You did as you were told and finished the third and final knot with relative ease compared to the first and second one.

“Cut the thread, doll. About a…quarter inch down you’re gonna do another one. Remember, ya want the knots all on the same side.”

Your mind reeled at the tediousness of the process and how long the cut was in size; you had your work cut out for you, though J was the perfect patient. He tried to remain impassive as you went to work with much less help from him the longer you continued.

You cut the thread after securing each knot thrice, making sure you followed his every direction and paid heed to which movements and made him flinch and how much pressure was safe to apply that would not make him squirm uncomfortably while you worked.

It was over sooner than you had anticipated and after J had deemed each knot to be adequately constructed, he instructed you to bandage it for him. You did your best with what haphazard bandages and gauze he had available and by the time you had finished, it appeared as though an actual medical professional had sutured and bandaged his large wound.

You were methodical and paid close attention to detail, both of which saved you from making any critical errors.

Your bathroom had been thoroughly trashed in your haste to care for J; his shirt lay in a crumpled heap on the floor at his right and was soaked through with dark blood. The towel he had used to stop the bleeding after he’d washed the cut was soaked as well, from water as well as blood, and had been left lying on the floor between the two of you. There were blood splatters on your pants legs and your shirt and in the sink and on J’s chest…

“Alright,” you sighed as you stepped back and let him admire your work, “get out. I’ve got to clean this up.”

J tilted his head, nodding his approval at your handiwork, “ya did good, doll, for your first time.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at him in disbelief, “well, I hope this first time is the last time, but I know you better than that.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile and without another word did he step out of your way and exit the bathroom.

You set to work on washing the blood out of the sink and wiping it off of the floor; the next hour or so would you spend treating the bloodstains on your clothes and his before all would go into the wash.

It did not bother you to be left to clean up after him, nor did it upset you that you would also be the one to make dinner for the two of you. Any relationship thrived off of give and take; it was your turn to give. J did much for you, even if the repercussions seemed too great for one to bear.

You loved him, because he tried. J did not give up on you easily. He gave to you what you desired of anyone: a chance to be yourself without judgement and the freedom to explore the kind of person you wanted to be.

J had always been a taker, but not because he was selfish; you just had so much to give.