#like seriously this is yanking me out of a massive art slump

[dark-nekofear]

so I fell down the fem thiefshipping rabbit hole & honestly I'll never be the same

[monstersandmaw]

Male werewolf x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is a patreon tier reward, and I hope you enjoy my take on their big, dad-bodded werewolf OC, Lowe. It's been up on Patreon on early release and is now up on Tumblr for you to enjoy.

Content: playful banter, fluff, the briefest flicker of angst, some dominant tendencies in Lowe (it's not D/s though, for anyone who's not into that), and a reader who gives as good as she gets. Wordcount: 2792

___

As you yanked the door to the campus cafe open with about twice as much force as it needed, you caught a glimpse of Lowe working behind the counter. Of course, there was a massive queue at this time of day; at the midpoint of the afternoon when people were thinking about either finishing up early or knuckling down for a caffeine-fuelled all-nighter.

Engrossed as he’d looked in his work before, he glanced up as if he’d sensed your presence, his warm eyes flicked briefly in your direction as the door opened, and he offered you a quick, fond, twitch of the lips before turning back to the masterpiece of latte art in his hands. Even at that distance, you felt your body relaxing a little more around him. In the time since he’d made some playfully snarky comment about your Pokémon shirt a few months ago - which had, in fact, led to a joint outing on campus playing Pokémon Go together - you and he had fallen into an easy friendship.

You tried not to snarl softly to yourself as the woman at the front of the queue, old enough to be a post-grad perhaps, leaned on the counter and flirted openly with him, but at the end of the day, what claim did you have to him anyway? Lowe was your friend, and as much as you’d like to think you might be the tall, long-haired guy’s type (he was certainly yours, with that ‘powerful-yet-soft-around-the-edges’ dad bod he had going on, and that self-assured confidence that tipped just pleasantly shy of being arrogance), you couldn’t really be sure. After all, you’d seen him getting pretty close with a guy friend of his, so for all you knew, he wasn’t even interested in women, but you’d never really discussed that. The most personal things had got so far was Bloodborne bosses and beloved DnD characters, which was also fine.

The queue slowly dwindled in front of you, and when you stepped up to the counter, Lowe turned from the machine on the far counter and plonked a large cup down before your lips had even opened to begin your order. His grin was positively wolfish, all teeth and glinting eyes.

You pouted and snapped, “And what if I wanted a chai latte with soy milk today?”

He raised one thick eyebrow as he popped the takeaway lid onto the cup with a distractingly big hand, and said flatly, “You hate soy milk. Drink up, grumpy-guts. You’ll feel better…”

You huffed, took the cup off the counter, slapped the cash down just hard enough to make him chuckle and twitch another smile - damn the bastard looked pleased with himself and double-damn, if he didn’t look extra-specially good wearing that expression - and he announced to his colleague that he was going on break.

He joined you outside, tugging out one of the heavy, metal chairs for you without a word before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

Lowe closed his eyes, tipping his head back a little to feel the chilly late-spring breeze on his face. He looked good as he relaxed like that, with his long, thick, nut-brown hair tied back off his face with a few fluffy bits escaping at the front, and his big arms folded across his chest and resting on the slight paunch he had at the waist. Something about the thick, almost russet-brown scruff on his jaw made you want to touch it. Instead, you sipped your drink and sighed.

“Good?” he asked without moving or opening his eyes.

“You know it is, you cocky little shit,” you laughed. Banter with him was always so easy, and you gave as good as you got. “Thanks, by the way. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a complete brat…”

He snorted and cracked an eye to look at you. The sun caught in his golden-brown iris and glinted softly like polished amber, and it honestly stole your breath for a moment. “How’s the course going?” he asked instead of teasing you any more. “You were pretty stressed about that assignment last time we talked.”

You rolled your eyes and puffed the air out of your chest, swiftly following it with some inarticulate grunt of despair. “It would be going a lot better if my roommate wasn’t also being such an inconsiderate asshole,” you snarled. “Seriously, I don’t think I can take the smell of weed or the late nights any more.”

He frowned. “Can’t you talk to someone about it?”

“Have done. Not sure I’ll have a roommate for much longer though… Missing classes and being constantly stoned must equal tanking grades, right?”

Lowe nodded but didn’t say anything for a while, watching as a gnoll and her girlfriend strolled past, hand in hand. The gnoll nuzzled her nose against the human’s ear and elicited a squawk that made her giggle in return. Eventually he said, “You free this weekend?”

Cocking your head to one side, you shrugged. “Hand-in is on Friday afternoon, so… yeah? I mean, I had just planned to sleep all day… why?”

He looked uncharacteristically apprehensive and chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. “I was going to head up into the woods for the weekend. Camping. Wondered if you wanted to come too?”

“Camping?”

“Yeah…” he said, looking like he was regretting mentioning it now. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I mean… you’ve earned your rest, and camping under the stars isn’t for everyone. Don’t feel like you have -”

“Shut up for a second, will you?” you laughed, and he drew up short and blinked, staring at you before laughing fondly. “I’ve actually never been camping. I’d love to go, as long as you don’t make me go for a ten mile hike as well…”

“Would I treat you like that?” he crooned and you rolled your eyes again and muttered something which you didn’t think he’d catch. Somehow, however, he did, and he barked a loud laugh, startling a cervitaur walking past with his grocery shopping in each hand. As Lowe turned to look at the cervitaur he’d surprised, you watched his eyes flare gold, almost unnaturally so. Perhaps it was just a trick of the sunlight at this angle. When he looked back at you, you missed what he said, staring at his eyes, which were now back to their normal, warm brown.

He murmured your name, sounding a little concerned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not a brat… not really…”

“Shut up,” you retorted, your tone carrying no venom. “And you know full well know I can be.”

That Thursday afternoon, your roommate moved out, finally expelled for drug use and selling to other students, and you fumigated the room as best you could, relieved at last. The second after you’d finished deep-cleaning everything, you texted Lowe and said, ‘So… I’m down a roommate now.’

‘You need me to help hide the body?’ he sent back immediately and you burst out laughing.

‘I love you, but no. It was expulsion rather than murder. I was kind of hoping you might want to move in instead?’ you sent, your heart in your mouth. He’d mentioned he was looking for a place closer to campus, and this could be perfect for him. If he was willing to have you as his roommate, of course.

‘Definitely interested. Can I think about it and let you know this weekend?’

That wasn’t a complete rebuttal, you figured. ‘Of course.’

‘Cheers. I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday.’

True to his word, Lowe didn’t take you on a ten mile route march. He drove you up to the start of a wide, easy looking trail that was apparently only three miles up to the campsite, along a winding, inviting, grassy path. Despite looking maybe a little towards the less fit end of the scale, Lowe was four strides ahead of you in a matter of seconds. Realising this, he slowed, and you nudged him with your elbow.

“Thanks,” you said and he gave you one of his soft, secret smiles that you didn’t see very often.

He wasn’t particularly talkative as you made your way up the path, but the silence between you was easy, relaxing even.

“You’re such a cliche, you know that?” you laughed a little while later as you paused on a rock for a drink and to adjust the laces of your shoe.

Lowe scowled. “How?”

You stared pointedly at the penknife in his hand and the stick he’d picked up and had idly begun to whittle into a howling wolf in his big, strong hands, almost as if he’d not even realised he was doing it. Again, he surprised you by just shrugging a shoulder and turning back to it while you enjoyed the scene. He seemed a bit distracted somehow. When you moved on, he stashed it in his pocket.

Lowe carried literally everything, stowing your water bottle for the way up in the side pocket of his backpack, and even a two-person tent, food supplies for that evening and breakfast, and more water than you probably drank over the course of three days, and yet he still managed to arrive at the campsite as if he’d just strolled the length of one city block.

He impressed you again by lighting a fire and cooking a veritable feast for you both on a little makeshift grill, and he looked more than pleased with himself when you complimented him. “Don’t let it go to your big fat head,” you snickered and he growled playfully at you.

Quite literally growled.

The moment he’d done it, he went still, eyes wide, and even looked a little sick. “Shit,” he hissed.

“What?”

“I…” then his huge shoulders slumped despondently and he let out a long breath. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you. I mean, I’ve been meaning to tell you for… well, since we kind of became friends, really. But it never seemed… convenient…”

“Convenient to tell me what?”

He shuffled a bit and poked at the embers of the fire. Your stomach felt uneasy, and it had nothing to do with the inordinate amount of amazing food you’d just finished. “I…” he began, and then whispered, “Fuck it.” He looked you in the eye and said, “I’m not human. I’m a werewolf.”

You blinked. It didn’t totally surprise you, if you were honest. “Well, that… certainly makes one or two things add up…”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

He turned his golden eyes away from you and poked a bit more at the smoldering, grey wood, making it crumble to fragile ashes. He did look a bit easier now though. “I figured… maybe you wouldn’t… that if you knew that I’m not human, you might not want me as your roommate anymore… It was stupid though, I know.”

“Lowe,” you said, more gently this time, reaching for his bare forearm where he’d cuffed his tartan sleeve up to his elbow. His skin was warm and his muscles tensed, hard as the earth beneath you as he waited for whatever you were going to say next. “You’ve become probably my best friend… There’s no one I’d rather be roommates with than you. Besides, who else is going to tolerate your Soulsborne marathons and hipster lumberjack wardrobe?”

A long, low growl emanated from him but it dissolved into laughter when he saw your expression and he shook his head. “I can’t believe I was so chicken about you knowing…”

“I can’t believe you looked like you pissed yourself a minute ago!”

His eyes flashed openly gold now and he huffed, “I did not…”

“You totally did. Anyway, I’m glad you told me. But you know that means I’m going to want to know all the details.”

“I think I’ll save that for another day,” he said as he reached for the s’mores beside him.

‘Another’ day turned out to be a week after you’d helped him move all his boxes into your room. He was lying on his back on his bed, his arms folded up behind his head, one knee bent, the other leg stretched out, foot dangling off the end of the mattress. You glanced across the room at him from where you had your laptop on your knees and your headphones on, working on the last tweaks of the next assignment due. He looked tense, even though he wasn’t really doing anything in particular.

Removing your headphones, you murmured, “Lowe? Everything alright?”

“Mmm,” he half growled. A moment later he heaved out a huge sigh and said, “No. Full moon’s tomorrow night. I always get kind of… cranky around now.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Whatever you’d thought he’d say, you hadn’t expected the long, low moan that escaped him. It was not an innocent noise. Breathing through his mouth in soft, quiet pants, he didn’t look at you, but you sensed that his eyes were glowing.

“Lowe?”

“No,” he said. “Not unless you want to take whatever this is between us somewhere else…”

You bit your lip. “You mean…?”

“It would probably take the edge off if we slept together, yes,” he said bluntly. “But if you don’t want that, then I’m hardly going to push…”

“I like it when you’re pushy,” you countered, setting your laptop aside and staring him in the eye.

His pupils blew wide and he raised his nose. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Oh… fuck, you’re beautiful.”

With a smile, you crossed the room to him as he sat up, watching your every move with unwavering, lupine focus. “Let me help you out, big guy,” you crooned playfully and he twitched his lip in a possessive snarl, eyes golden and locked on the curve of your neck.

“Last chance,” he said. “I don’t want you regretting crossing this line with me.”

“You’ve got super-human senses, Lowe,” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. His gaze darted instantly to the movement, transfixed by the glimpse of skin beneath your top. “You must know how I feel about you by now…”

“Yes, but lusting after someone and doing something about it is different when they’re your friend… I don’t want you to feel like I’m putting pressure on you…”

In answer, you reached out and trailed your fingertips up his neck, scratching him a little bit and making him growl again, and as you finished with a single finger drawing a line up his throat and under his chin, he shivered, as if barely holding himself back. “Why don’t you put just the right amount pressure on me… here?” you said, licking your lips as you climbed into his lap, straddling his thick thighs and running your palms over the softness of his stomach.

His jaw was soft, mouth open as he panted openly, and beneath you as you ground your hips to emphasise your question, you felt his hard cock.

A heartbeat later, he’d clamped his hands under your thighs and stood up. Lowe dropped you onto the bed with the perfect mix of recklessness and carefulness and lunged for you. He peppered and mouthed kisses down your neck, tugging at your skin with his canines, biting at your earlobe, his short beard burning and scratching your skin deliciously, and all the while he ground his cock against your thigh through his jeans.

It clearly wasn’t nearly enough, and it wasn’t long before you were both naked on his bed, and he had his mouth on you, his hands spreading your legs wide as he used the strength in his arms that his softer body belied. “Don’t come yet,” he rasped between strokes of his tongue. “Not til I say…”

“Oh,” you gasped, fighting the rising wave of heat that swept up your body, tingling under your skin, at that command. You tried, you really did, but in a mere few strokes of his tongue, you came with a cry against the heat of his mouth, bucking while he held you down and pulled you against his mouth to press his tongue tight against your throbbing clit.

When he pulled back, looking extremely smug about himself and his talents, you saw that his canines had lengthened and his features had become a little less… human.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said, clearly still enjoying the taste of you on his lips.

“Will you hurry up and fuck me?” you pouted, and he snarled.

“Such a brat,” he laughed, but he didn’t waste any time either.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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[caindoglover]

Darkest Night

My song of inspiration was 'Alone' by Alan Walker. It's a bit too bouncy, but it carries an undertone of melancholy because of the two verses that sort of influence the rest of the song. There were other songs but those make even less sense than that. lol Also, a part of this chapter was inspired by art done by moopledoodles on tumblr. I've always love all their stuff, but one piece in particular is my favorite. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12387858/11/The-Thin-Line

Enjoy!

Joker stands in a pure black world. He stares into the emptiness at his feet. Perhaps there is a massive hole right before him, one that will swallow him whole if he takes the smallest of steps. Still, he can’t rightly stand there and do nothing. So he lifts a foot and presses the tips of his toes inches ahead of the other. He cringes, shies away from any possible repercussions.

Only it never comes. He opens his eyes and lets out a breath. Well…alright. He takes one more step, then another, and another. His confidence grows with every successful step until he is walking smoothly within the confines of the darkness. Unfortunately the sentiment is fleeting. Unease creeps up on him after so long here. It’s wrong. There is no such place where nothing exists. Where is Batman, or Harley, or Richard? Any of them.

A soft rumbling breaches the silence and he starts, jerking his head to attention. The sound wells into a chuckle that echoes all around the space. Joker spins around, his eyes wild and his heart speeding up. He has to find the source of the noise. Needs to. He can’t quite place it, but it makes his hair stand on end and that’s all he needs to know.

Color filters into the space above him and for a long moment he keeps his head low. He has the distinct feeling he shouldn’t look. Alas he can’t remain blind forever. So he tentatively raises his head to meet the large eyes of an all too familiar face and he immediately regrets his choice. His throat tightens and his body trembles despite his efforts. He opens and closes his mouth around empty words. You…

The chuckle swells and spills into maniacal laughter. “You didn’t really think you could get away from me, did you?”

Joker gulps in air as he inches backward. “You…You’re not here.” He shakes his head.

His face disappears from overhead and darkness prevails once more.

Joker’s eyes flit from left to right, over and over. Where is he? Where did he go? Where-? He yelps and pivots as he backs into something – him. He shrinks away.

The man towers over him, his eyes shining with malice. “I told you that if you ran I’d find you. Kill you.” He grins and his razor sharp teeth gleam to match his eyes. He stalks closer.

Joker scurries away, tripping over himself in his flurry. Panic twists his face and muddies his eyes. “N-No.” He scrambles back on all fours, unable to find his way to his feet again. “You’re not real. Not real.” He grips his head and digs his fingers into his scalp. Tears well in his eyes. “Not real.” The tears break free and roll down his cheeks.

The man pounces. He seizes Joker’s throat and squeezes. “Does this feel fake to you?”

Joker gasps for air.

“Oh? What’s that? I can’t hear you.” He snickers.

Joker scratches at the man’s hands and tries to dig his fingers beneath the man’s grip, but his fumbling fingers do no good. They never do.

The man lets go with one of his hands and grabs Joker by the wrist. He forces his elbow onto his knee. “Sorry, but it’s too late to tell me now.” He yanks the arm down.

A soundless scream rips from Joker. The pain is electric and swallows him whole.

The darkness rises up and drags him down, away from his tormenter but not from the pain. He grasps at the arm and the screams finally burst forth. In but a few seconds the wails tip into sobs. He clenches his eyes shut. End this. End this. Please. He curls inward.

Footsteps echo. “I’m coming for you,” the voice reverberates all around Joker. “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.” He reaches for Joker.

“No,” Joker shrieks. A clap of thunder drowns him out and a flash of lightning lights up the darkness.

He jolts up in bed, his breathing erratic and his chest heaving. He pats himself over, his hands flying to his neck first to feel for swelling and then to his arm, finding there isn’t a trace of pain. He lets out a breath and his shoulders slump.

He runs a hand over his face and freezes as his skin brushes with something wet. Tears. He cried in reality. Because of course he did. He sneers at how pathetic he is and scrubs away the trail of tears as well as what remains built up in his eyes. It isn’t like this is the first time. He should be over it ten times over by now. He’s in Batman’s home for crying out loud. In prison it was different…but here, he should have learned by now. Still, he has dreamed of this and worse every night he has been here. It’s just. So. Pathetic.

Trembling sneaks up on him, traveling up from his fingertips. His sneer crumbles and his shoulders shudder as a sob leaps forth. He buries his face in his hands in an attempt to muffle the sounds and hide the tears that have returned with a vengeance.

No, get a grip. He swallows the sobs and runs the back of his arm over his eyes. He can’t do this, not here. He’s being too loud. If he’s not careful he’s going to wake someone up. They’ll find out. And that’s the last thing he wants. He peers toward the window. Rain beats against the pane and his eyes glaze over. Yeah, okay. He picks himself up from the bed and drags himself into the halls. He meanders about until he finds the stairs. He takes flight after flight until he makes it to the roof.

He steps through the door and into the pelting rain, letting it wash over him. He stands with arms spread, eyes closed, and breathes in deeply. Every inch of his skin is alive and in the best of ways. It stings, but it is not the kind of painful that makes him wish he was dead. But best of all, here like this, drenched in the rain, no one can tell the tears running down his face apart from the rain water. It all blurs together. In fact, he’s not crying at all. That’s right.

He drops his arms to his side and the crumbs of peace he gathered up fall away. He walks to the back side of the roof access and leans against the wall. He slides down until he is sitting and draws his knees to his chest. His heart sinks with him. He crosses his arms over his knees and scrunches his head down so everything below his nose is hidden.

Thunder booms and he jumps in place, his eyes wide and every nerve on end. Within seconds all the energy pumping through him drains from his very bones and he recedes to his previous glassy eyed state. And after the initial boom, the sound gradually has less and less impact on him until eventually he doesn’t notice the thunder at all. Only the sleeting rain breaches his mind.

You seriously can’t feel it? He hears Batman’s voice in his head. Joker blinks and stares vacantly out into the emptiness before allowing his gaze to slip to his hands. Oh. His hands shaking. More so than that night on the cliff. In fact…his whole body is. And it is no longer from the crying and sobbing. You knew it was going to be cold. “Didn’t know…” Only this time his words are an outright lie.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but the next thing he knows a shadow has fallen over him and the rain is no longer hitting him. Joker peers up through dull eyes to see Batman leaning forward with his arms spread so his cape shields him from the rain.

Batman locks eyes with him, but his gaze is not half as sharp and his expression is strangely soft. “Hey…” his voice too, it is missing its edge.

Joker musters enough energy to push one corner of his mouth into his best smile and say, “…hi…”

Batman notices how fiercely Joker is shaking first and foremost and he also knows it is the last thing he should comment on. “Want to come inside with me?” He lets half his cape fall and reaches a hand out to Joker.

Joker’s lip trembles and his empty eyes well with emotion. He gives a stiff nod and lays his hand in Batman’s.

Batman pulls him to his feet and guides him into the house, all the way to the couch. Only once Joker sits does he follow suit. His brows knit together as he watches Joker. This is so wrong. So still. Joker is always flinging some part of him about for the sake of his ‘flair’ or whatever. But now…there is nothing. And those eyes, they might as well be the eyes of a dead man.

Joker stares vacantly at the tv. He isn’t sure for how long, like everything else tonight, but the whole time Batman doesn’t utter a single word. Perhaps he left. Ha. Typical. Something like a smile twitches at his lips. Then it breaks. His lips twist into a disturbing grin and the tears roll down his face in a steady stream.

Batman’s heart sinks further and sadness shines clearly in his eyes. He opens and closes his mouth around empty words. There should be something he can say, surely. “Joker…”

Joker sucks in a breath and scrambles to scrub away the tears. “S-Sorry. We’re not friends, I know that. I said that.” He puffs out a laugh and the sound cracks. “You…you shouldn’t have to see me like this. It’s not-not…”

“Joker.” Batman chances placing a hand on Joker’s shoulder.

Joker flinches on instinct, but recovers quickly.

“We don’t need to be friends for you to talk to me.” He locks eyes with Joker.

Joker stares for a long moment before he snaps out of it. He shakes his head and brushes Batman’s hand off of him. “No.” He pulls farther away and wraps his arms around himself. “I don’t-I can’t-”

Batman lets out a breath. “Well, you need to tell someone.” He stands. “Let me get Harl-”

Joker lurches forward and seizes Batman’s arm. “No.” Panic leaps into his eyes. “I don’t want her to know,” his voice trembles and cracks as he adds, “I don’t want anyone to know.” Tears well up again and struggles to swallow them.

Batman sinks onto the couch. “Joker…” He runs a finger across the clown’s cheek and wipes away lingering tears. “I can’t make you say a word.” Doesn’t want to. Force is clearly a trigger. “But if you hold it in much longer, you’re going to break. And I…I don’t want to see you break.”

Joker crumbles and breaks down into sobs and convulsions. “I’m so pathetic. If it were you, you’d never even have a bruise.” He covers his face. “But I-I-”

Batman waits for Joker to recover. He doesn’t say a word.

Joker pulls himself together enough to speak, but every word wavers and it’s a stuttering mess, “It started out as threats…if I ran he’d kill me. And he…he meant it.” Terror flashes through his eyes. “So I…I was scared to escape. That’s why I stayed so long. But eventually he started hurting me. And it just got worse…and worse…and worse.” His words devolve into nothing more than sobs.

Batman tentatively reaches out and lays a hand on Joker’s shoulder.

Joker falls into Batman and throws his arms around him, digging his fingers into the space between the shoulder blades and clinging for dear life. He buries his face in Batman’s chest and lets it all out. “Every night…every night…it happens again.”

Batman starts, but the surprise fades into sad acceptance. He wraps his arms around Joker and holds him close. “I’m sorry.” He runs a hand over Joker’s hair over and over. “I’m so sorry.”

After a while the tears slow and the sobs ebb and he loosens his grip on Batman. Joker sniffles and leans off of Batman so that he can look up at him. Pain creases Joker’s face even now. “Why does everyone hurt me?” his voice is barely a whisper.

Batman falters. His mouth hangs open slightly and confusion swims in his eyes. Everyone? His mind snaps back to the night on the cliff. Were his parents the first? Did they beat him? The thought sickens him. “I won’t hurt you,” he says it before he can convince himself to hold in those pesky emotions that come much too close to something intimate. Then he makes another decision. He leans down and presses his lips to Joker’s forehead.

A glint of light surfaces in Joker’s eyes and a trembling smile lifts his lips. His heart beats a little faster. “Batsy...”

Batman smiles as the all too familiar nickname finally passes Joker’s lips. It’s the first time he has said it in a long time, ever since the nightmares really started to mess with him. He starts to utter their trademark show of affection, cutting himself off hard as he realizes how the phrase might be the exact opposite of what Joker wants to hear right now.

Joker sees the conflict in Batman’s eyes and for a moment he too falters. Then he makes a choice. “I hate you.”

Batman relaxes. “I hate you more.”

“Prove it,” it is presented as a challenge, but his voice makes it sound more like a plea. A cry for love that has been denied him all his life.

Batman hesitates. He recognizes Joker’s vulnerability and he is afraid this isn’t the right time to make any kind of step forward, but he is also afraid pushing Joker away will only drive him deeper into despair. So he cups Joker’s face, tilts his head up, and leans forward and kisses Joker.

The kiss is deep and Joker’s eyes widen for a split second before he falls into it. He kisses Batman in return and drinks in his scent, the taste of cheap chapstick, and surprisingly soft texture of Batman’s lips as they mesh so perfectly with his. He captures it all in his memory, refusing to lose this moment of pure ecstasy.

Batman breaks the kiss and smirks. “Good enough?”

A dopey smile spreads across Joker’s face and he flushes. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“Come on, it’s late.” Batman stands and draws Joker along with him. “We need to sleep.”

Joker ducks his head and a flash of fear passes through his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be with you.”

Joker relaxes. “Okay…” He’s willing to try anything for some peace.

Batman’s presence doesn’t chase away the nightmares, but when he wakes up from the horrors of sleep later all he has to do is hold on tight to Batman to soothe his pain and panic enough to sleep again. It happens five times before morning and each time when he wakes he finds that it is easier and easier to get a grip. Within a week the security even begins to seep into his dreams and that maniac is no longer able to lay a finger on him before Batman swoops in and beats him down, rewarding Joker with a kiss just as exhilarating as that first night.

And so the nightmares die, replaced by a little piece of heaven.

I have been planning to do something like this since the jail chapter. Cause who doesn't want this hopelessly cliche setup for every pair in existence? lol Seriously, I have done this for almost every fandom I've been in, romantic and platonic. I also considered building up to the nightmares the way I built up Joker sort of wilting in the jail chapter, but decided against it. It would have messed up the flow too much.

I'm not sure when I'll be updating again because I'm still working on my original novel. Also Rick and Morty has returned and I may or may not be obsessed with it. XD