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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 months ago

Note

How would AK!Jason go with the fact that Y/N got kidnapped by Harley Quinn’s thugs while he was busy on a mission with his Militia. Love your stories by the way!

Abducted

Hi, nonnie! Thank you! Fair warning, this gets angsty. ~2.3k words

The Arkham Knight is surrounded by the dead bodies of nine of his most trusted and skilled men. It's not a mystery how they got that way. He shot the ones that were still alive himself.

Number ten is cowering on the ground, it's pathetic, really. They were supposed to be the best of the best.

That's what he was paying them for. So why the hell aren't you in the safe house he left you in? He unloads the rest of the clip into number tens leg, voice flat as he seethes, "Where are they?"

Number ten cries out. Jason doesn't really care. "They're– Harley! Quinn's gang got 'em," number ten chokes out, shaking and sobbing and weak.

"And where, exactly, did they take them?" Jason asks, reloading his gun.

"I don't know," number ten wails, and if Jason wasn't so pissed he'd roll his eyes. But he doesn't. This is serious. You're missing, and he's on the verge of blowing Gotham to hell.

"Guess," he hisses, pressing the barrel of the gun to the man's forehead.

"I don't– they said something about a carnival," number ten chokes out.

"Anything else," The Arkham Knights asks. Number ten shakes his head vigorously. Jason pulls the trigger and watches the body slump to the floor. He turns to the rest of the men, watching as they stiffen and shift under his gaze.

He's already stalking past them, "What do you have?"

"Sir, Harley Quinn hasn't been in Gotham since the Joker died," one of the men starts. Jason wonders if they notice the way his hands clench. "But there's rumors about a separate cell of Joker apologists, fanatics trying to keep his name alive."

He grits his teeth. Fine, that's not new information. But why would they go after you? "And," he forces out, "What does that have to do with them?"

His men follow him uneasily, "GCPD flagged a shipment to ACE Chemicals that went missing a few days ago. They– it was mentioned the truck was carrying chemicals similar to the ones used in the Joker and Harley Quinn cases, sir."

If he was any less trained, any less used to the hell that is Gotham, he would have stumbled, let out choked sounds and anguish and fear.

"One of the techs has a theory it's a revenge kidnapping," one of the sergeants continues, "for taking over Joker's old hideouts last week. It looks like they used a form of the laughing gas on the sentries outside."

"They're all going to be dead by the end of the night," He snaps, gesturing towards one of the lieutenants, "Get the men to set up a parameter. No one leaves the area. And no one moves in until they're secured. Understood?"

They nod vigorously. "Bring the fear toxin," the Arkham Knight grits out. He's out of the safe house and sprinting over Gothams rooftops without another word.

He knows Gotham better than most. Knows to take a shortcut over city hall, knows to jump in three... two... one... to land perfectly on a passing train. Knows when to shoot his grappling gun for the quickest route to the abandoned fairgrounds.

His heart is racing. He can see the number tracking his pulse steadily rising. He glares at the little number on the corner of his screen with a vengeance. He doesn't get to be scared. Doesn't get to panic until you're back at the base, warm and safe in his bed.

There's bile in his throat as he stalks through the shadows of the carnival. It rises with each thug he leaves crumpled and lifeless in the dirt. He's only acting on his training now, on the drive that he has to get to you, has to save you.

He slips past decaying attractions, clenches his fists at the abandoned ACE Chemicals truck crashed into a rotted ring toss booth. He follows the laughter and taunting voices to a ripped and decrepit tent.

There's not many places to hide, but Jason's the best at what he does. He thinks he might have been born to stalk the filth of Gotham.

His eyes narrow at the sight of you. Arms tied behind your back. Bruise forming on your cheek. Dazed expression, likely a concussion. Balanced precariously on the seat of a dunk tank over a pool of neon chemicals.

His fingers twitch over his gun when one of the goons throws a ball at the target, barely missing as the others laugh.

He counts the number of Joker fanatics in the room. Thirteen men. Eight women. Six posted close enough to you where they could hit the target if he's not fast enough. Seventeen with visible guns. All with visible weapons. There's more voices outside the tent.

He eyes the woman swinging a bat covered with barbed wire a little too close to the dunk tank, too close to you. Jason wants to get you out first. There's too many variables. You could get shot. He's not fast enough.

Someone throws another baseball. It's a perfect toss. He shoots it out of the air.

"You have something of mine," The Arkham Knight drawls, stepping out of the shadows. He would smile at the way most of the room flinches at the sight of him. He would if you weren't teetering over a vat of bubbling chemicals.

One of the men steps forward. Stupid of him, really, "Finders keepers." He says it like it's a game. Like you're just some toy they picked up off the street.

Jason laughs. It's funny, that they think just because they stole you, it makes you any less his, "I'm going to give you two choices. One, you drop your weapons and leave. Two, you stay and you learn exactly what the chemicals in that vat can do."

More people leave than he expected. Huh. Guess they aren't so loyal to the clowns' legacy as they said. "I'm not scared of you," Goon number one spits. Goon number one gets a bullet in his stomach.

"You will be," The Arkham Knight murmurs. It's quick work. They're untrained, inexperienced. Half of them are high. It becomes increasingly clear with each body that hits the floor gasping that someone paid off his men to get to you.

He's pulling you off and out of the dunk tank as the last thug hits the floor, "How bad is it?" Jason's hands do not shake as he unties your wrists. (They do.) His breath does not leave his lungs when you say your head hurts. (It does.)

His eyes dart over your face and he picks you up to cradle you against his chest, "I'll have a medic look over you when we get back." He tries to sound soothing, the modulator makes it sound emotionless. You don't even acknowledge it.

He carries you out of the tent. The Joker fanatics that left are kneeling in the dirt and his men have their guns trained to kill. The Arkham Knight nods to them, "Use the Fear Toxin. Inject them with the highest dose we have. Drop the freaks still alive in the tent into the vat."

"Yes, sir," his men echo. Jason ignores the begging that starts up behind him as he carries you to the armored truck. He maneuvers you inside with him, settles you on his lap as his hand brushes the bruise on your face.

"Boss," the soldier behind the steering wheel prompts.

"Take us back to base, sergeant," The Arkham Knight says evenly, gloves still tracing your bruise. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't make any promises. The only comfort he offers is his hand gripping your waist tightly, paired with the gentle caressing of your face.

He knows it's not kind, the way he's holding you. He sees it in your eyes, even through the exhaustion and headache you're feeling, he's overbearing. He can't bring himself to care. All that matters is that you're safe in his arms.

The rest he can take care of later. It'll be simple for him and Deathstroke to pick through the rats in his ranks. Scarecrow's always in need of new test subjects, after all.

His grip tightens on you as the truck stops. The Arkham Knight picks you up easily, pushing the door open and carrying you inside the base. His soldiers are quick to move out of his way. They should be. Anyone with a brain can tell he's angry.

He's livid, at the way you hardly move, barely react to him. A medic files after him quickly as he sets you down in his personal quarters.

It's not a room he ever uses, preferring to sleep at whatever safe house you're in, but you're safer here until he can weed out the traitors. He watches you shift slightly in the chair, eyes unfocused.

Jason steps back and studies you with sharp eyes as the medic talks to you quietly, taking note of each wound and stumbled answer you give.

"Mild concussion, some scrapes and abrasions. Nothing that won't heal," the medic decides, "They shouldn't sleep for the next hour and need to be monitored for any worsening symptoms."

Jason motions them to leave. He hates to leave you alone, even for a moment, but there is one more order he needs to give. He follows the medic out the door.

A group of squad leaders stand rigid outside his quarters. Good. They should be on edge. "Make an example of any Joker or Harley Quinn sympathizers," he says, tone an unquestionable command, "Anything that's theirs, is a part of our operations by the end of the night."

He doesn't bother to stay and listen to their replies, already turning back into the room where you're waiting. Jason locks the door behind him, crossing the room in three strides and kneels at your feet.

You blink down at him. He hates the distant look in your eyes. You should be here. With him. He tugs his helmet off, "Does your head still hurt?"

You nod a little, the only proof you're really listening. He takes your hand in his brushing his thumb over your knuckles, "Say something." It's a command. It makes you jolt a little. He hates himself for it.

"I thought– they were gonna kill me," You stumble out, voice weak.

He nods, there's no pretending that's not true, "They can't kill anyone now."

He thinks you would have looked alarmed, if you didn't know what he was now. Relentless. A monster. A killer. But you do know, he's made that more than clear since the moment he got you back by his side.

You look resigned instead. Jason wishes you'd look relieved, "Do you need anything," he asks instead, reaching up to brush the bruise on your cheek. He can't help it, it's his fault that it's there.

You shake your head. He hates how quiet you're being, "Say something," he prompts again. He knows he shouldn't, knows you're in shock and you're hurt and you're tired and you're probably scared and he's not helping. But, he squeezes your hand anyway, a silent demand.

"What do you want me to say, Jason?" You breathe out, eyes finally focusing on him.

"Anything. Ask me for anything. Yell at me. Curse me out. Tell me you hate me. Hit me. Give me a bruise to match," He says almost desperately, pressing himself closer between your knees.

There's something wrong with him. He realizes that. The Arkham Knight is well aware that something inside of him is twisted, that you deserve better than this, especially after what you just went through, but he doesn't stop himself.

"I don't wanna hurt you," You murmur, "You came for me."

"I'm the reason you were there in the first place," Jason protests, both hands moving to cup your face, "I would deserve it, welcome it, if it was from you."

"I want," You start, and Jason leans forward eagerly, ready for whatever punishment you deliver, "I want to lay down. I wanna feel safe."

He falters, but doesn't move from between your legs, "You can't sleep for at least another hour."

"I know," You say quietly. Jason stares at you. You're the only thing that makes him unsure now. You always manage to knock him off center, never doing what he expects.

"Okay," he relents, scooping you up just as easily as he did in the tent. He carries you over to his bed. It's unused, perfectly made. He only ever sleeps wherever you are.

Jason carefully places you at the edge of the bed and digs through a drawer, handing you a shirt. He tugs off his armor, and frowns when you don't move.

"You don't want to sleep in that," it's not a question, and maybe he should frame it as one. Try to get nicer. But he thinks he might have forgotten how. You nod and slowly change. His eyes never leave you.

There's a few more bruises than he expected, and it makes rage coil in his chest. There's nothing he can do but crawl into bed at your side. It makes him uneasy, how little he can do for you.

He tugs you against him, he's not as gentle as he means to be.

You curl against him, fingers tangling into his shirt. He should comfort you here. Tell you it's going to be okay. Promise to protect you. He should rub your back and kiss your forehead and ease whatever pain you have in your heart.

But he's not gentle. He's not good. You're like this because of him. He holds you tighter when tears start to soak his shirt, lets you tangle your legs with his.

He doesn't manage to find the right words to say, doesn't manage to do the right thing before the hour is up, and you drift off to sleep. He doesn't think he ever will.

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #ak!jason todd x reader

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nosyrobin · 1 month ago

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|| WHEN UNCLE!READER GETS SICK AND THE BATBOYS HEAR ABOUT IT ||

Coughing, sneezing, raspy voice, achy body. Oh dear, you got a cold. Shaking like a damn leaf on a windy day, you called your brother. Bruce immediately picks up the phone, you knew he was in the bat cave. Hearing the bat-computer keys and talking. You could only roll your eyes as you talked to him. “Can’t make it. I’m sick” you said. He responded it with a “sick? Stay home. I’ll send Alfred to make you some soup Y/N.” You could only nod before coughing a storm up. If you could see your brother now, he would be frowning with concern.

“It’s not….deadly is it?” “What?! Bruce, no. It’s a cold. Yknow how I get.” You said closing your eyes about to hang up and rest. Bruce only sighed for the other side of the phone. “Alright.” “And Bruce.” “Yeah?” “DONT let the boys know I’m sick. Yknow how they get when I’m sick…” sadly they found out. You didn’t know how or when. But of course you knew who found out first.

Tim found out first, first because you didn’t show to the manor on the daily time you always do. Tim notice Alfred picking up your favorite soup you eat when sick when you use to live here at the manor when he was Robin. Tim frowned, you’re sick. You’re sick, alone, withering away in bed. What kind of nephew would he be if his dear uncle is not with company. So with that, he grabbed some doctor gloves, a face mask, hand sanitizer and Lysol. He was prepared. When Alfred went away to secure the packed soup, Tim took the packed up soup and ran out the door to drive to your house.

Jason surprisingly was the second to find out. He lives with you, like a roommate kinda of thing? So why in the world would he be second? Because he was too busy bleeding out in the manor after a fight and he had to stay in the same manor over night before you had gotten sick. Jason had seen Tim run out the door when he came down the stairs. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he also sen that the packed soup was the kind of soup you ate only if you were sick or terribly hungry. But since he knew you weren’t in the manor, he went with the former and immediately dressed up to go see his sick uncle.

Damian, he always knows when something is going on. But he definitely knows when something is going on when he sees his two brothers leave the manor. “Uncle’s sick Titus. Drake has his favorite soup and Todd has his favorite book. Pathetic, they forgot uncle’s heated up blanket.” Damian says with a smirk. Certainly holding it as Titus barks at his owner. “Guess we will pay my uncle a visit, I’ll see you later.” The brown skinned boy said as he pats his beloved dog. Leaving the manor with a shortcut to your house.

Dick was last, and was mad knowing that no one informed him that you were sick! Like cmon, he’s the first Robin and he had more of a bond with you when he was little! So how could his brothers leave him in the dust like that! He immediately got off work and speeded over to your house. He got some of your snacks, a “get well soon” card. And just some flowers, it was perfect. Perfect for the “favorite” nephew of course.

Tim was first at your door and entered using a copy of your spare key, then Jason shoulder rushed Tim like a football player, Damian was going through your window, and dick…dick just stood there watching his little brothers cause havoc. The soup was saved by Damian sliding to catch it, Tim almost had a heart attack as Jason just glares at all the brothers in his “home.”

Damian smirks, ready to get the “best nephew” award by handing you the soup you desire when sick. That was before Jason picked him like a stray cat. “What the hell you’re doing here demon?” “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Helping uncle.” Damian says with a glare. Dick takes Damian out of Jason’s bear grip and then helps Tim up. “Well, arguing isn’t going to help. Let’s just see how unc is doing guys.” All the boys nod in agreement, going inside your room. Tim still looks like a doctor so he was the last one in.

You were surprised, very surprised to see all four of your brother’s kids and your nephews at your house smiling as if they didn’t just break in. You heard them, but you thought you were just hallucinating. Damian gave you the still hot and ready soup on your night stand and your blanket. He wanted to get on your bed and lay with you, but you shook your head no. Not wanting to get him sick. Jason just sat down in a chair you have in your room, watching you closely like a hawk in case something happens. Tim was taking your temperature, asking you about the medicine you have taken. Basically a worried baby worried for his poor “old” uncle. Dick just lays the basket of things he bought for you. Smirking as he made a comment about how he is obviously the “favorite” nephew. That made everyone mad, cue to loud arguing and Damian ready to jump his brother.

As much as the boys loved you, they acted as if you were on your death bed. Which made you kinda mad, but at least they care for you a lot. But the constant arguing was not helping you as headaches started to attack. You coughed loudly as you felt your eyes droop more. You hated being sick, but you mostly hated your peace being ruined.

“Out! Out now!” You yelled with a raspy voice, all the boys stop. Frowning before leaving, except for Jason who stood there with crossed arms. “I live here unc…” you glare before throwing a box of tissues at your buffed up nephew who didn’t seem phased at all. “Not as of now mister, you stay at the manor or whatever you go until I get better.” Jason stayed silent before leaving. Not before putting a bottled up medicine by your bed, with a small note that says “get better.”

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blu3n · 3 months ago

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[ Could you please write something like Jason and her are already in a relationship, but she doesn't know he's Red Hood and she falls and Red Hood catches her and he starts flirting she is all "I have a boyfriend, back up" and she goes back home and tells Jason everything complaining about the Red Hood and Jason sits there with a smirk enjoying her ranting? Maybe she punches him in the stomach and comes home and sees Jason has a matching bruise? Honestly, I leave the writing to the writers..😅 ]

@angel-eyes-777

Author: thanks for asking! 🐞

Description: You had no idea Jason was from Red Hood

For several reasons, Jason wouldn't tell you that he was Red Hood, both to spare you from the atrocities he committed and for fear that you would leave him when you found out what he did.

He would feel bad about it, his mind would be so tight that he would almost speak as soon as you asked him something about it, but he did it to protect you from the evil that he was.

He would cry a lot if you left him, Jason loves you and doesn't want to be left alone again.

When you found out he would freeze, try to stop you from leaving or want your attention on him so you wouldn't stop to think about how violent he seemed.

It was cold in Gotham City, the wind blowing in your face making your skin colder than usual. Your work shift was quite tough, your grumpy boss pulling your foot to deliver piles and piles of work.

Letting out a sigh of discouragement, you try to cross the street, taking a shortcut that was sometimes convenient. So focused on your stress and headache, you couldn't see the huge hole that was in front of you..

.Before you could fall, you felt a pair of firm and strong hands holding you, saving you from falling into that place.

Red hood you look up, observing that familiar face that you saw on TV, usually not frowned upon by society as an anti-hero or something like that.

"We usually look where we're going, gatinha?" Sua voz era sedutora e profunda, faria qualquer garota se apaixonar por ele em um minuto se ele quisesse.

"Thanks for saving me, now I'm going," saying firmly, you walk past him, after all, your boyfriend was waiting for you at home so you could sleep together in a warm bed for another day.

"Hey, what's the rush, baby?" He holds your wrist with his rough and thick fingers, his touch soft.

"I said no, and that's it." When she realized that this guy wouldn't leave you alone, in an act of self-defense she punches him in the stomach, making him grunt in pain and bend over a little.

Without wasting time, you run back home, trying to hurry, you just wanted to go back and see your boyfriend again.

When you walked through the door, you noticed that he had something in his stomach and the TV was on.

Jason looks at you with an amused expression. He never told you about his Red Hood persona, and he managed to hide it surprisingly well throughout your relationship. The TV was on, covering a news story about how Red Hood saved some kids from a burning building.

You stopped and sighed as you walked into the house "I don't have much to say about him, he saved me from falling down the drain but he's still a flirt" she says in disgust

"Well, he saves people, doesn't he?" he says nervously, running his fingers through his hair so as not to look as nervous as he looked.

Following your eyes to his abdomen she frowns and realizes something was wrong, moving slowly towards him you see the same mark on his abdomen. "What?" without even needing to ask properly he already collapses in front of you knowing that you found out.

"i'm sorry- baby please- baby" jason stands up the pain stinging in his stomach he tries to reach out to touch you desperate for you not to leave "please don't leave me..."

"No, no, I won't leave you" your voice soothes him and he holds onto you holding you there...needing your warmth and your love, the rest of the night you two slept together while he clung to you

he loves you.

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🪼 Thank you for requesting the writing, and I hope it is what you asked for.

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fwibblefwobble · 17 days ago

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Tags: smut (mdni please), masturbation, voyeurism (but they want each other), internal angst on Jason's part

Jason Todd likes to think that he's gotten pretty good at emotional repression.

Occupation aside, life has taught him one very crucial thing-- don't get attached. Not to the nice elderly couple running the bodega downstairs, nor the young mother and her baby two doors down. Hell, not even the neighborhood strays that line the alleyway shortcuts. He steels his heart against the soft purr of a calico cat, hardens his gaze as he watches it saunter away after receiving an adequate amount of affection. Life giveth and taketh away, he thinks, grim as he continues forward. He won't be its victim. Not anymore.

You, however. You're different.

You're the first person he got to know when he decided to try and pursue a normal life. A desperate Craigslist roommate turned... friends, he thinks. You're the only indulgence he'll allow himself, anxiously reasoning in circles that every movie night or outing is to keep up appearances. All a part of being normal.

(You don't ask questions when he comes home visibly beaten and battered. You know everyone has to do what they must to survive in Gotham, and that Jason's not an exception.

Wordlessly, you tug him over to the sofa and break out the first aid kit, chatting mindlessly as you dress his wounds. He nods along, eyes fixed to the ground, happy enough just to listen.)

Despite this, he fights himself over you.

He hates the way his heart jumps when you lean in close, your warmth soothing over his skin like a balm. He hates the golden joy that spills from his chest when he makes you laugh, the stupid grin on his face when you banter on back and forth.

(He hates the way you make him do things that he shouldn't, like buying grocery store flowers and sweet treats just to see your face light up when he steps through the front door.

He hates the way you make him soft, like the boy he should've been.

He hates the way you make him feel alive.)

He lays awake in his bed, once again stuck in the cycle of bargaining and self hatred. The clock reads 1:15 when he begins to register sounds coming from your side of the wall. Your voice is muffled but breathy, shallow gasps in the dark of night. A nightmare, he reasons. He knows the feeling. Despite himself, he leans closer, propping himself against the wall with a feather-light touch.

Your breathing gets harder. You're whining against your hand, speech unintelligible but blissed out.

The realization makes him rigid.

He knows this isn't right. That he should remove himself from the wall, leave you to your own business. But he can't help the way your moans go straight to his cock.

He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his skin as he prays for the temperance to go away. It almost works, until one thing rings loud and clear.

"Jason."

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfic #red hood imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd x you #red hood/reader

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alnair-jpg · 3 months ago

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Olympics AU Info dump!

First, I am blown away by how much love the series is getting, thank you all so much! I do really enjoy all the comments and reactions in the tags. Know that they all delight me and the only reason I don’t reply to everything is because there are so many! But I read them all 💕

General questions:

Can you draw the designs or concepts? Write fanfic in this AU?

Yes of course! I’d love for you to tag me if you post them so I can see

Do they all know each other?

At first, I would say no- with the exception of Nico and Will (they’re developing a whole backstory in my head that I cannot and will not stop.). But they all meet in the Olympic Village after the opening ceremonies and quickly become friends. They all try their best to attend each other’s events. (Someone please tell me how Percabeth becomes a thing. Please. 🙏 )

Why didn’t Percy win gold?

Percy was an Olympic medalist in swimming before moving to diving. After competing in several swimming events and feeling like they were all just small variations of the same thing, he wanted more of a challenge. He chose diving to stay rooted in to the water, but to add a new dimension to his bodily awareness and control.

What’s Annabeth and Luke’s rivalry?

They most definitely trained together, and it was Luke’s skill that motivated Annabeth to aim for the Olympics. But, she wanted to compete for her home country, Greece, which Luke thought was just a shortcut since there was a clearer path to an Olympic team in a smaller country. Annabeth is constantly trying to prove to him that she would have made it to the top of the sport either way.

Also, apologies to the IRL fencers out there for the inconsistency. I know fencing is a gendered sport, and Annabeth’s gear/style are inconsistent, please forgive the oversight ☺️🫶

Volleyball?

The whole Hunters of Artemis are a volleyball team (that apparently has no country 😅). Thalia ends up the captain. When Reyna moves on from tennis they welcome her with open arms.

Rejected sports

Will as a runner. Canonically, he’s super fast, but just having him as a sprinter didn’t fit with his personality.

Will as a pole vaulter. Specifically the guy that lost because he was ‘blessed a little too much’ and knocked down the bar. I will not explain further.

Will as a gymnast. He was this || close to being a gymnast essentially modeled after Steven Nedoroscik, I had the sketch and everything. (I shared it here!) But when an anyonomous ask clued me into the sick medical team uniforms it all fell into place from there. (Thank you no-longer-anon @helyeahmangocheese !)

Percy in anything equestrian related. I see him not having the patience for all the formality of it all, but he definitely crashes Hazel’s shows and chats up all the competition (the horses.)

Annabeth on a sailing team. Also, related to that, Reyna on a sailing team. It was a fun idea, especially for Reyna and her history with pirates but ultimately it was really hard to capture in a few illustrations.

Nico in several winter sports. For consistency mostly. He could fit for a lot of winter sports - ice skating and snowboarding are my personal favorites.

Leo as a shooter. He would most definitely build his own gear and make tweaks to his weapon. Which would get him immediately disqualified.

Jason in discus. Jason as a basketball player. Golf is just… fitting. 😂

Other Characters I’ve been thinking about

(that may have art in the works… and may not actually be athletes!)

Clarisse

Meg

Grover

Rachel

Lester / Apollo

Mr. D

Chiron

#olympics au #pjo #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson #rrverse #annabeth chase #jason grace #nico di angelo #will solace #reyna avila ramirez arellano #hazel lavesque #trials of apollo

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months ago

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Hear Me Out: Among Us AU

Kids in order, top to bottom, left to right: Dick, Jason, Barbara, Cass, Stephanie, Tim, Duke, Damian, Mia Mizoguchi, Terry Mcginnis, Mat Mcginnis, Athanasia Al Ghul, Helena Kyle, Rory Raegan, Colin Wilkes, Harper Row, Cullen Row, Alina Shelley, Jarro, Kiki Wayne

I think it'd be hilarious, if Jarro, who canonically is an alien, is the only human. Bruce just finds this tiny human child after someone Starro? gets tossed out the airlock and just... yoink.

Honestly I think it'd be funny if all the kids have black suits (or mimicry of suits) like their parent but wildly differently colored helmets.

I also think it'd be funny if Bruce is just kind of... vibing. He could kill someone, but he's more interested in the wires here and teaching his kids stuff. Who constantly shortcut through the vents and spook other crewmates.

#batman au #batman #dc #dcu #among us #among us au #imposter batman #my art #sketch #Bruce has an adoption problem #feel free to use this as inspiration #prompts?#prompts #He has an entire kindergarten class worth of kids #The bat ears are so the kids can sit on his head safely lmao #Y'know what could be interesting #Half-imposter Bruce #half alien and half human & willing to punch either if they threaten any of his brats

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badsweetangel · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 5: Gun Play (Jason Dean x Reader)

Warnings: Power play, oral (man receiving), mentions of murder, the reader is crazy, attempts to write in neutral gender.

Jason Dean hated you. He couldn't stand to look at you because he despised you. Of course, you never knew this, because there hadn't been many occasions when you shared a conversation. All he knew about you was that he was uneasy with your gaze, your eyes following him everywhere, as if you wanted to see through him. And he, as a man who kept many secrets, didn't like this.

So, one day after school, he followed you. He was ready to finish you off; anyway, it's not like it was the first time he took someone's life. Plus, it made sure you didn't know anything about him. You took a particularly lonely shortcut, but he assumed you did it without thinking about the consequences in the hopes of getting home sooner.

However, this was a perfect scenario for Jason Dean.

And you didn't even know it.

As you made your way onto the dirt road, you walked much faster, making it seem like you didn’t want to spend too much time there, knowing the consequences of the danger of walking in an isolated place like that.

Jason Dean quickly approached you, wrapping his arm around your waist and covering your mouth with his remaining hand, delighting in your attempt to struggle. His breath made contact with your ear.

“I think you know what’s going to happen here, don’t you?” He mocked, laughing at your efforts to escape.

He pushed you towards the tree, causing a scratch on your cheek. You turned quickly with your tears threatening to fall. When you saw him, you recognized him immediately. And in that same instant, your horrified expression changed to one that conveyed a certain calmness.

And that unsettled him.

He didn’t like it when things got out of hand.

“What the hell?” He whined, not understanding you. “Weren’t you scared?”

You raised your eyebrow, not saying anything yet.

“It doesn’t matter.” Frustrated, he put his hand to his hair, messing it up. “With this, you’ll be scared.”

And he pulls a gun out of his trench coat and points it directly at your head. On his face, you could see his sudden pleasure at having the power again. But his face quickly changed when he noticed that he still didn’t have the power completely, because your eyes were pointing at his gun now. And in your eyes there was an emotion that he couldn’t identify yet.

He hesitated to pull the trigger.

And he really needed to know what was happening with you. He looked at you with some suspicion; he wasn’t so happy that his curiosity was stronger than his desire to kill you. The doubt certainly didn’t go away when you kneeled in front of him, looking at him with your insinuating eyes. However, an idea quickly crossed his mind. So, he decided to check it out. He put the barrel of his gun against your forehead and waited for your reaction.

A provocative and inciting look, a slight tremor in your body that didn't seem to be fear at first glance, and a smile... captivating.

"I see," he nodded, smiling slightly in disbelief but with excitement inside at the simple idea of you getting turned on by his weapon.

Your tongue licked his weapon a couple of times specifically to prove your point. You had him hypnotized, with a desire burning inside him, and you could notice how his obsession with you was beginning to grow. He wasn't a simple man. But if this didn't cause him to have an intense desire for you, definitely nothing and no one would.

Your hands went straight to his crotch, lasciviously caressing his penis and enjoying every second of the change of plans. You pulled down his pants and underwear, noticing that his penis was already erect. You both definitely agreed on something. You licked a couple of times, teasing him, not giving him what he wanted. Enjoying the precum that stained your lips.

“Stop joking,” he said as he grabbed your chin so you looked him straight in the eyes and looked more closely at the gun on your face. “I’m not playing with you.”

But there was only play in his gaze. A twisted game, but a game nonetheless. You took his entire cock, gagging on it, but you didn’t even care about the gagging you had to suppress because the gunplay and the power Jason was displaying were enough to captivate you and continue pleasing him.

He tried not to move his hips as he felt your wonderful mouth playing with him. He tried to do his part so you wouldn’t find out that you were driving him crazy.

But you probably already knew that, since he hadn’t killed you. His release went straight into your mouth, closing his eyes to recover from his orgasm, feeling your licks that were meant to clean his penis so that it wouldn’t be left with any drop of semen.

He sighed.

His hand went straight to your hair, pulling it back, bringing your face inches away from him. His gun, still at the side of your head.

“You don’t even know what you got yourself into, sweetheart.”

You smiled knowingly at him.

It seems like he liked you.

#jason dean x reader #jd x reader #jason dean heathers #jd heathers #heathers #heathers 1989 #slashers imagine #slashers fanfiction #heathers x reader #heathers x you

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void-of-unparalled-chaos · 6 months ago

Text

The Double-edged Blade of Chance

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade.

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight.

“Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

"Why would I be a ghost?”

@deadonmayn Day 5: Soulmates | Pretend | Jason and Danny were childhood friends | "I never thought I'd see you again."

TW: Major Character Death, Child Neglect, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Depression

AO3 link

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, though. Maybe it was small, but it was a chance. For those born with black ink scrawled across their wrists, it was a hope. A perfect match who could understand you on every level straight down to your atoms was waiting, and maybe you would meet them today! Or tomorrow. Or a year from now. Or… never.

Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, black letters burn and scar. Sometimes, your soulmate dies before you can ever meet them. Words on your wrist were a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade.

On average, most people didn't meet their soulmates until their twenties or thirties. Jason Todd was not most people.

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight. Lungs burning and legs shaking with adrenaline, he sprints with his singular pilfered apple. He's not being chased, but it's better to create distance between him and the scene of his crime. If the past six months as a street kid has taught him anything, it's that caution is a virtue. Caution keeps you alive.

He falls back into muscle memory, allowing his feet to carry him through familiar shortcuts. Jason rounds another corner into a dirty back alley only to ram into something face first. There's a startled yelp and before he knows it Jason is horizontal. The only thing separating him from the ground is a scrawny torso. Jason's about to throw himself away from the poor schmuck when there's a burst of pain in his back. He rolls and lands on the asphalt with a pained groan.

The other kid scrambles away from him with panicked, pale blue eyes. He looks the same age as Jason, skinny like a twig with a loose-fitting NASA shirt and unruly black hair. If Jason had seen him walking down the street, he would never have guessed he knew how to throw a punch.

The kid scans him up and down, suddenly embarrassed, “Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

Jason is so busy nursing his kidney that he doesn't register the significance of the words. Instead, he snaps back with incredulity, “Why would I be a ghost?”

The kid stares at Jason with wide eyes. His mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish out of water. Whatever. Let him have his crisis, it's not Jason's problem. He dusts off his apple and stands to leave.

"Wait!"

Jason yanks his sleeve back out of the other kid's grip, "Don't touch me!"

"Sorry…" he shrinks back and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that Jason almost feels bad, "Please don't go!"

Jason ignores him. He has things to do and places to be. Winter will be coming soon, and his abandoned apartment has very little in terms of blankets or jackets. A cold street kid is a dead street kid.

“Just-” the kid cuts in front of him. Jason stops short. Twig kid rolls up his sleeve, holding his wrist so close to Jason’s face that he couldn’t look away if he tried, “Look!”

Jason freezes. His eyes scan over the words once, twice, and then a third time.

Why would I be a ghost?

Jason can feel the scowl evaporate from his face, replaced by a softness he doesn’t know what to do with. Gently, ever so gently, he brushes over the words with his thumb. He doesn’t need to look at his own wrist to verify. Now that his head isn’t so far up his ass, the words the other boy uttered finally click and he knows that this is his soulmate.

“My name is Danny!”

Jason lifts his eyes to meet his soulmate’s. Danny’s grin is brighter than the sun itself. Something unfurls when he sees that smile. His lips tick upwards.

“I’m Jason.”

And so begins a beautiful friendship.

Danny’s parents were… interesting to say the least. Jason had never met them himself, but he sure heard about them a lot. The two were self-proclaimed ghost hunters, and Mrs. Fenton was a trained martial artist. They had taught Danny from a young age to defend himself and instilled a fear of ghosts while they were at it, hence Jason being floored with a kidney punch.

Other than that, the Fentons were hands-off. They didn’t pay much attention to Danny or his older sister, Jazz, so the two were mostly left to their own devices. Jazz couldn’t entertain Danny all the time, so he had taken to slipping out of the apartment to explore.

Jason may have been young, but even so, he had an inkling that the Fenton parents could have been doing a better job… well… parenting. Then again, it wasn't as if Jason had room to talk. Willis’ form of parenting had been more fists than words, painting out the rules of the house with black and blue bruises. Catherine had been good to Jason, even living under the smog of Willis Todd’s anger. She had taught Jason to cook (recipes he still knew by heart) and would read to him late into the night, fingers skimming old pages (Jason still carried the old, battered copy of The Little Prince with him, one of the few belongings he grabbed before fleeing CPS). Even under the drug-induced haze, his mom had tried her best. When she became too ill to do much of anything, Jason paid it forward as best he could.

There were some benefits to all of this. With the Fentons paying so little attention to anything outside of work, Danny could sneak supplies to Jason no problem! Suddenly issues like food or clean water were no longer as pressing, and Jason had a lot more free time. Naturally, he spent it with Danny. Jason taught Danny how to slip in and out of Gotham’s shadows unnoticed, and Danny taught Jason all of the things he learned in school. Danny would tell Jason stories written in the stars such as Orpheus’ lyre and Orion the hunter. In return, Jason would read his battered copy of The Little Prince to him under the trees in the park.

Like all good things, it had to come to an end.

It happens a little over a year after their fateful meeting. Danny arrives at their spot dragging his feet, eyes watery. Jason abandons his book on the grass beside him in favor of rushing to meet his soulmate, who all but collapses sniffling into his arms. They sit in the shade of their tree, Jason running his hands through Danny’s hair as he cries into his dirty shirt.

“What happened?” Jason asks once the other boy has calmed some.

“We’re moving.”

“What?”

“Mom and Dad want to move someplace in Illinois. Something about ectoplasm readings. They said we’re moving out by the end of the month!”

It feels like the ground drops from underneath Jason, nothing but a yawning chasm beneath his feet. Moving? To Illinois?

The tears return to Danny’s eyes with a vengeance, “I don’t want to move! I don’t want to leave you!”

Jason sets his jaw, tugging Danny back into a hug. He swallows the lump in his throat with false bravado. “It’ll be okay, Danny. You wanna know why?”

Danny makes an inquisitive noise, wiping his face on his shirt as Jason pulls away.

Jason reaches for Danny’s hand, turning his palm up to the sky. He stretches his arm out next to Danny's, their soul marks brushing next to each other.

“We’re soulmates, Danny. The universe decided that we are two halves of a whole. Fate decreed that we are meant to be together,” Jason poured the conviction into his words, “We’re soulmates, and soulmates are magic. Even if you leave for weeks, months, or years, I know we will find each other again. We’ll be together someday.”

Danny gawked at him, wide eyes a pantomime of when they first met. He stared at Jason, and then-

“You read too many books, Jason.”

Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly, shoving Danny into the grass. Danny giggled as Jason fell beside him with a huff. They stared up at the branches of the trees. The leaves swayed in the breeze. Jason follows them in captivating circles, his soulmate a soothing presence beside him.

“You really mean it though?” Danny asks.

“Mean what?”

“That we’ll be together again?”

“Of course,” Jason easily confirms.

It’s the most sure Jason has been of anything in his life.

With Danny gone, there is no steady supply of food or blankets. Jason quickly finds himself reacquainted with hunger and desperation. After the third consecutive night of dumpster diving with no reward, he decides something has to change. Armed with a tire iron, Jason makes money the only way he can.

Six months after Danny leaves, Jason steals the tires from the batmobile. Batman found this more amusing than aggravating, and the next thing Jason knows, he’s stepping into the role of Robin. Jason! As Robin! Who would have thought?

The new gig comes with some super awesome advanced tech. With all his work for Bruce, Jason figures it's only fair that he gets free reign with the batcomputer, or as Jason likes to call it, his best chance at finding Danny.

The batcomputer is one of the most advanced pieces of technology in the world. It's hooked up to satellites, has access to almost every database, and can run ID checks in seconds. Theoretically, there should be nothing stopping Jason from finding Danny. And yet…

It's like he’s disappeared.

All evidence of the Fenton family only dates to before their move. It doesn’t make any sense! There should be paper trails or social media posts or something! Anything! Jason searches for weeks but it’s as if Danny stopped existing as soon as he moved.

Jason doesn’t give up. There has to be something he’s missing, one little thread poking out of the seams. A single tug is all it takes. He just has to find it. He keeps looking.

He keeps looking for years.

He hangs on to hope.

Jason is fourteen when his hope shatters.

The night starts off normal. Jason dons the Robin suit and joins Bruce on patrol. They run through Gotham, stopping an arms deal and tying up a few muggers. Jason stops to take a breath, looking out over his city.

Jason loves this. He yearns for the whip of the wind in his face as he swings between gargoyles and fire escapes. He likes to help people, to defend others from the scumbags that think they rule the streets. Jason loves being Robin. Danny being here with him is the only thing that could make it better. That’s why Jason stays up high near the stars. It makes him feel closer to Danny, wherever he is.

Burning pain makes Jason stumble in his steps. He clutches his wrist with gasping breath, wondering what he’s been hit with and when. Quickly, he removes his glove, throwing it to the floor.

His stomach fills with icy cool dread.

“No…” Jason mutters, eyes wide as saucers as the black ink on his wrist begins to fade, “No no no no no-”

He digs his fingers hard into the words as if that will stop the color from leaching away.

“No! Don’t do this! Please, Danny, don’t-” his voice cracks with a sob as the black becomes a pale grey, “NO! You're stronger than this, you jerk! Don’t give up! Fight!”

Bruce lands on the roof with him. He says something, but Jason isn’t paying attention.

“Don’t… don’t leave me, Danny. Don’t leave me alone.”

Jason would normally never cry in front of Bruce, but he doesn’t care about Bruce right now.

“You can’t leave yet! I’m supposed to find you! Do you hear me, you asshole?! You're not allowed to leave!”

The words are nothing but pale scars. It’s over. It’s done. The burning fades to a numb nothingness. Jason throws his head into his forearm and screams.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Bruce takes Jason home. He refuses to speak, not even to Alfred when the butler greets him with the offering of a hug. Jason walks right past his open arms to the bathroom and takes off his suit. Jason doesn’t feel like Robin right now. Jason doesn’t feel like anything.

He showers just to be done with it, unfeeling of the ice-cold spray. Like a preprogrammed machine he runs through his routine. Water. Shampoo. Soap. Rinse. Dry. Jason heads straight to his room when he’s done, not even bothering to brush his teeth. Burying himself under his bed covers, he cries until he passes out from exhaustion.

It doesn’t get any easier.

Jason pushes the misery down and gets through the next day one step at a time. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. He goes to school, forcing himself to pay attention rather than sink into tempting numbness. Danny would have been so excited that Jason was in school. Danny would have wanted him to learn.

He comes home to Wayne Manor feeling, ironically, like a ghost. Alfred’s food tastes like chalk. Dick’s endeavors at movie nights and days out are about as tempting as swimming in the polluted harbor. He still joins Bruce as Robin, but he leaves the batcave feeling angry, hitting harder than he’s ever hit before. As if that will change anything. As if that will bring Danny back.

Sometimes, Jason draws over the scarred words on his wrist with a black marker. He pretends that Danny is still out there somewhere in bumfuck Illinois, waiting for him. It helps.

__________________

Danny Fenton was unlucky. The very first sign was his workaholic parents with their conditional attention and lack of safety precautions, leading to his eventual early demise (Also known as sign one hundred and twenty-six, not that Danny was counting). Then there was the whole Oh Shit I’m a Ghost revelation quickly followed by the Oh Shit My Parents Want to End Me realization. Danny could only assume that he pissed off some ancient deity in a past life.

So yes, Danny was extremely unlucky, but he did have one thing going for him: Jason.

How many people got to meet their soulmate so early in life? Perhaps all of his luck had been invested in Jason. Jason with his vibrant blue eyes and dirty hair. Jason with the soft voice he used for Danny alone. Jason with his stubborn hold on childlike wonder despite being faced with the worst Gotham had to offer.

Danny may be unlucky, but Jason made him feel like the luckiest guy on Earth.

He thought about Jason frequently. Idly tracing the words spread across his wrist, Danny would let his mind drift. Sometimes, he relived old memories. Other times he dreamed of their future together.

He imagined moving out of his parent's house and into one of his own. Jason would move in with him, warm and safe for once in his life. He’d be free to focus on learning like he so obviously wanted. Danny would go to work and Jason would go to school, but they would always come back together at the end of the day. Jason would pull out a book and Danny would curl against his side. Jason would get that adorable scowl on his face when something happened he didn’t like, and Danny would kiss it off of him with so much sweetness that Jason would forget what had annoyed him in the first place.

The honeyed kisses were a new addition to the fantasy, but not an unwelcome one.

Danny also thought about the present. He wondered what Jason was doing now. Was he still holed up in that awful abandoned apartment? Did he have warm enough clothes for the upcoming winter? Did he find enough food to last him the week? Did Jason feel Danny die? He must have been so scared…

Moving away from Jason was the worst thing to ever happen to Danny, including the portal accident. Four states away, there wasn’t much he could do to help his soulmate, and he had no way to contact him, no way to check on him. His parents barely left the lab let alone the house, so a family trip to Gotham was out of the question. He had thought about flying there himself after the whole dying and becoming a halfa thing, but between the ghosts coming through the portal and his parents, he couldn’t leave Amity Park unprotected.

Danny thought he had a solution to the issue when he met Clockwork. While they may have started off on the wrong foot, these days the two were on better terms. Danny would even go so far as to call him a friend. Perhaps Clockwork would be willing to help a guy out and pause time for a bit. Only for a few hours! Just enough time for Danny to return to Gotham, find Jason, and establish some form of contact. Surely that wasn’t too tall of an order!

Evidently, it was. Even after bargaining, pestering, and begging for what felt like hours (it could have been days or it could have been minutes, time was weird in Clockwork’s lair), Clockwork still refused.

Danny tried Nocturn next. It was more out of desperation than anything. His relationship with the ancient was still rocky, and he wasn’t expecting much to come from it. To his surprise, Nocturn agreed to help him but only once. Just one dream. Just one chance.

Danny is so excited he has trouble falling asleep. Eventually, he gives up and knocks back some melatonin. He’s willing to see the ceiling children if it means he also gets to see Jason. Danny closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he is standing in a library. It’s fancy, fancier than Gotham’s library. The shelves are decorative polished wood and filled with books in better condition than any Danny has seen in one before. One wall is bare of any books or shelves. A stone fireplace with glass doors resides against it, exuding a comforting heat that makes Danny’s eyes droop even while asleep. The couches and chairs near the pit are so plush and pristine that Danny is certain this is a private library. No way would any public seating be this clean.

It's all very nice, but not nearly as nice as the sight of the teenager residing on the furniture. The round baby fat that had shaped his face had begun to make way for a chiseled jaw. He's put on weight, no longer as gaunt as Danny remembers with more muscle. The skinny, starving kid Danny had known is no more.

He's older now, almost unrecognizable, but that furrow in his brow as he reads and the slightly crooked nose gives him away. This is Jason. Danny's Jason.

"Jay!"

Jason startles, dropping his book. He scrambles to his feet, tense as he stares uncomprehendingly at Danny. It hurts to not be recognized, but Danny understands. He looks different too.

"...Danny?"

Danny can't find the words to respond so he settles for a smile, opening his arms in invitation.

Jason catapults into them. They clutch onto one another. The embrace is familiar but different, arms lankier than they used to be. Jason shakes like he’s crying. Danny thinks he might be too.

Jason finally pulls away, hands running over Danny’s shoulders and arms, "This… this isn't real. I'm dreaming."

Danny laughs, "Well that depends on your definition of real. It may be a dream, but I'm still here."

Jason’s hands raise to cup Danny’s face, "You died.”

"Yeah,” Danny can’t help but lean into Jason’s palms, fingers rising to brush over his soulmate’s.

"I don't care if it isn't real, I-" Jason swallowed. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Danny’s, "Can we just… pretend it is?"

"Of course, Jay."

Jason plants a kiss on his forehead and drags him over to the couch. They collapse onto the cushions, Jason’s chest breaking Danny’s fall and strong arms wrapping around him.

"I missed you," Danny says into his shirt.

"Not as much as I missed you."

"You look better. You look like you've been taking care of yourself."

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

Jason laughs.

For the next hour or so, Jason tells him about his life as Batman’s sidekick, Robin. Life in Wayne Manor has been beneficial for him. His smile is fuller and more carefree as he talks about his latest patrol than it ever was when he was living in the apartment. He seems happy in a way that Danny rarely saw.

"I'm so proud of you, Jay."

Jason doesn't say anything in reply, but he doesn't have to. His wet eyes are response enough. He's quiet for so long that Danny's convinced he's broken him.

Then Jason leans in, slowly, oh so slowly. Danny's heart flutters. He closes his eyes, tilting his head forward. He prepares himself to feel the press of lips against his own and then-

His alarm goes off.

Danny's eyes fly open, surveying his room in frustration. He never got Jason's number. Fuck.

There’s nothing to be done except to continue on with life. Between school and ghost fights Danny still finds time to pester Clockwork. It’s the same song and dance each time but Danny is nothing if not persistent. Occasionally, his attempts are rewarded with glimpses into his soulmate's life. Just little everyday things like Jason doing his homework or cooking with an older man in a suit. This of course led to Danny pushing for more, something like an actual conversation or contact information, all of which Clockwork refused to provide. It didn’t stop Danny from asking.

If Clockwork truly wanted Danny to stop then he shouldn’t have rewarded his behavior in the first place.

It's not long after Nocturn’s favor that Danny finally wears the old cog down.

“Come on, Clockwork! Please?” Danny whines, tugging on the ancient’s cloak, “I just want to talk to my soulmate!”

Clockwork ignored him, peering through another screen.

“It’s not like we haven’t already met! How could there possibly be any harm in us talking?”

Clockwork stopped, considering. This had never happened before! Danny waited with bated breath.

“I’ll let you see him-”

Danny cheered, happily doing loop-de-loops in the air.

“I wasn’t finished,”

Danny stopped cheering.

“I’ll let you see him, but you can’t interfere.”

“Interfere? Interfere with what?”

Clockwork frowned, “Some things are destined to be. If I take you to him, you can’t stop what is about to happen. For better or worse. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Danny stilled, considering. This didn’t sound like he was going to talk to Jason. It seemed like this would be a mere passive observance. It wasn't much different from watching Jason through Clockworks’s portals. Whatever. Danny would take what he could get.

“I’m sure.” Anything to see Jason again.

“I foresaw as such.”

Danny barely has time (heh time) to register the sad look Clockwork shoots his way before he’s portaled out of the ghost’s lair. One blink he is staring at the gears and cogs in the walls, then next he is standing in a warehouse. Alone.

“Clockwork?”

There’s no response, so Danny investigates. It's hot. Hot enough that Danny feels like he is sweating despite his intangibility. The warehouse is filled with boxes upon boxes. As he wanders further in, he begins to hear signs of life. He peers between the crates.

A few musclemen are unloading more crates to the floor. Someone out of sight sounds like they’re laughing. No not laughing. Full-blown manic cackling. That’s a villain's laugh if Danny has ever heard one.

He peaks around the corner to get a better view and nearly reels back. That’s a clown. A fully dressed clown. Green hair, white face paint, and all.

Danny hates clowns.

“What? What’s going on here?”

Jason!

Danny looks over his shoulder in the direction of the footsteps.

“Just step over here and you’ll understand everything, Robin.”

A blonde woman rounds the corner, Robin, Jason, following close behind. They walk past Danny and right into the clown.

“What?!” Jason leaps between the woman and the gun lime-flavored Mr.Mime is aiming squarely at her chest, “But you said…”

“I lied.”

The woman is aiming a gun at Jason’s head. Danny growls, but it goes unheard.

“I can’t afford to have you stirring up trouble. I’ve been dipping into the medical funds myself. If you blow the whistle on the Joker, the investigation will certainly uncover my embezzling. Sorry about that, kid. Looks like you picked the wrong person to trust. ”

“Clockwork,” Danny asks the open air, “what is this?”

Jason is surrounded but his eyes are solely focused on the woman. He looks devastated.

“What should we do with him?” the woman asks the clown.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for years,” The clown lets out another one of those awful cackles.

Danny doesn’t think it would be possible to hate this guy more than he already does, but then he pistol whips his soulmate across the chest hard enough that he hits the ground.

Jason gets up again. He’s always been tenacious, Danny thinks as he watches him punch the clown in the gut. He feels a glimmer of satisfaction. Jason will be okay. He’s giving the newest additions to Danny’s shitlist a solid beat down, and Danny gets a front-row seat.

But then one of the gym bros knocks Jason to the floor again. He follows it up with a kick to the ribs. Jason lies there heaving, and suddenly Danny isn’t so certain anymore.

The clown approaches him, dragging a crowbar against the concrete with a harsh scraping sound.

“This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me.”

Danny tries to rush forward. He wants to tear that crowbar out of the clown’s hand and hit him so hard that he loses his teeth. He wants to grab Jason by the collar of that stupid outfit and fly him far away to safety. Danny wants to, but he can’t. His feet are rooted to the ground. His arms refuse to lift from his sides. His head won’t swivel on his neck. Danny can’t even switch off his invisibility. All he can do is blink as the crowbar careens into Jason’s ribs.

“You can’t interfere, Daniel.”

“Clockwork,” Danny grits out, quiet and desperate, “Clockwork, please.”

He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder, “All is as it should be.”

No no no no no no no no no no no no no-

Danny isn’t sure how long he’s there, frozen uselessly in place as the maniac clown brings the crowbar down on Jason’s body over and over and over again. Eventually, he seems to get bored and decides to leave Jason to the mercy of a bomb. With a grand flourish to the ever-so-helpful timer, he leaves Jason bleeding on the floor. That woman is there too, but Danny doesn’t care about her.

Finally, Danny can move. He collapses next to Jason, cradling his beaten face in his hands and murmuring nonsensical platitudes. Jason’s breath wheezes shallowly, unseeing gaze fixed far away.

The clock ticks down.

Jason doesn’t make it to six minutes.

Danny chokes back a sob as the words on his wrist burn. With utmost care, he brushes Jason’s eyelids shut. Danny presses a kiss to his forehead. It still feels warm against his own ice-cold lips. Taking Jason’s limp hand in his own he leans back. He waits. He hopes.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Danny almost thinks that Jason’s- no, the body’s eyes have opened once more. The color gives him pause though. Vivid green eyes like his own blink open in place of blue. A pale, wispy figure sits up, legs remaining within the corpse as if superimposed. The domino mask that had covered his face has been replaced by what looks like permanent grease paint. The Robin uniform is a mess even in death. The holes and tears have carried over, but thankfully it's no longer bloodstained. Jason’s wounds are all but gone except for a single glowing ectoplasmic scar running from his hairline down to his cheek.

The newly formed ghost’s chest heaves in a mimicry of desperate breathing. Danny remembers it from when he first died. He had also panicked at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. It's hard to break such an ingrained instinct.

Danny feels his soul mark tingle, and though he doesn't look away from his soulmate he can see the green glow of the words in the corner of his eye.

“Jason?” Danny drops the corpse’s hand in favor of reaching for Jason’s.

Jason’s eyes whip around wildly, landing on Danny. His chest slows to a stop, “Danny?”

“Yeah, Jay,” Danny lets out a broken laugh, tears pooling in his eyes, “It’s me.”

“Danny!” Jason lunges for him wrapping his arms around his waist, “I never thought I’d see you again,” he choked out, voice watery with emotion.

Danny clutches him back, gloved fingers curling into the fabric of his cape, “I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m sorry, Jason,” Danny sniffs, tears soaking into the fabric of Jason’s shoulder, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay! Well, not really,” They pull back to look at each other. Jason tucks a strand of hair behind Danny’s ear, fingers lingering to trace his jaw, “but I get to see your pretty face again so I can’t complain.”

Danny flushes green but still manages to level Jason with a look, “That’s stupid and you know it! You have every right to complain you just-”

Danny cuts himself off with a small, distressed noise. Danny has died before. He knows what it’s like. And now Jason has too. They both know. There are no words.

“Yeah…” Jason trails off, eyes lingering on his body, “Yeah. But you're here, right? You found me!"

Danny smiles, cupping his soulmate's face in both hands, “Always,” he presses a chaste kiss to Jason’s lips. Even after it ends their foreheads remain touching.

“I missed you,” the grin Jason gives him could only be described as dopey.

“Not as much as I missed you,” he teases back.

Jason pulls him into another hug. They hold one another until their tears finally dry up. It reminds Danny of the good old days, running rampant through Gotham’s streets and finding solace from everything awful in each other.

Suddenly Jason starts to giggle. Danny doesn’t know why but his joy is contagious and soon Danny is snickering alongside him.

“Why are you laughing?” Danny asks between unneeded breaths.

Jason slips his tattered glove off, displaying his soulmark with a wiry grin, “I just realized I’m a ghost!” Jason giggles again, “And so are you!”

“Why would I be a ghost?” Danny deadpans, which only causes Jason to laugh harder.

Danny glances at the clock. One minute. “We should leave.”

Jason nods, standing up before Danny can even move and offering his hand. Danny takes it, rising to his feet. Their fingers remain linked together as they phase through the wall of the warehouse. They turn to watch it blow with a sense of finality. The flames licking the sky feel like an end, but also a new beginning.

Danny turns away from the ruins and focuses. His fingers sharpen and tear through the fabric of reality, opening a swirling green portal into the Infinite Realms.

He holds the portal open with one hand, extending the other back out for Jason to take, “Together?”

“Together,” Jason’s fingers clasp his own.

This time, they don’t have to pretend.

#The ceiling children line is a reference to the video “What its REALLY Like to Take Melatonin” by DannyPhantom.exe #my dumbass accidentally posted the draft to ao3 when trying to edit the tags so your getting this a bit early #deadonmayn24 #my writing #dpxdc #dead on main #The Double-edged Blade of Chance #dom24d5

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