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weirdworldofwinnie · 6 months

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Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year

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Danny Fenton is a Gotham Police Officer

Danny is just a random Street Cop in Gotham, but he has a good relationship with everybody else, even the corrupt ones. He decides to not use his powers on the job, since the Anti-Ecto Acts are still in the process of being repealed and Gotham has a pretty harsh attitude towards Metas (and he does count as a meta, a meta is classified as a sentient being with powers. It is not exclusive to people with Meta-Genes)

One day, while Danny is on duty he stumbles upon a battle between the Bats and a gang. They were caught while investigating a lead and were outgunned, but they can’t leave without the evidence or the entire case will be ruined.

Danny saw that one of them was about to get hit as they run to get the briefcase holding the evidence, so he pushes them out of the way and takes a shot to the head.

All of his cop buddies are sad, and Commissioner Gordon is sad that he lost one of his non-corrupted cops

Danny’s body is taken to the Morgue and the Bats go to pay their respects and thank him for saving one of their own.

Just as Batman is giving Commissioner Gordon a big speech about how they will make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain, and how he was one of the good ones, Danny’s immortality kicks in and he just sits up on the Examination Table.

He says, “Hey Boss”. Everybody turns around and sees him sitting up, “What’s everybody staring at me for?”

He just tells them that he was in a lab accident as a kid that turned him immortal, and he hid it because of Gotham’s attitude towards Meta-Humans.

And from then on he is just, “Danny the Immortal Cop”, just a swell guy who just so happens to have a problem with dying.

He also stops hiding it so much, he rushes into burning buildings, he acts as a distraction during shootouts, he gives up his Gas Mask to his fellow officer when there’s a Scarecrow/Joker attack, and generally he is the guy you call when you need help in a dangerous situation.

Not to mention he’s a darn good Cop.

And that’s just the stuff that comes from the initial immortality reveal, what about what comes next? Do Villains try to buy him out? Do they try to test his immortality? Are they determined to get rid of this guy no matter what, because he isn’t somebody you can just make go away?

Part 2

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc #dcu #batman #commissioner gordon #immortal danny #cop danny #good cop danny #meta humans are not restricted to humans with the meta gene #danny is still a gremlin #The Penguin is annoyed #cause he can't get this guy to go away #whenever somebody says i know a guy danny is that guy #batfam has a new favorite cop #Commissioner Gordon feels hurt all of a sudden #So does Dick #Dick and Danny are buddie cops #whenever danny dies his buddies just dump his body in the break room till he comes back to life #the new recruits are confused #why did they just dump their friend in the corner after he died?#is nobody gonna mourn? or question that?#They whisper to the cop next to the asking why?#and danny says it's cause he's immortal #the new guy does a doubletake #he was just dead in the corner #why is he alive again?

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moumouton4 · 11 months

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I'm Looking For My Husband || Kakashi Hatake x reader

A/n : And here is a non requested fic. As always I take time to answer to requests but I spare time for my own imagiantion. So here is an idea I got a LONG time ago 😂

Masterlist ⚜

Warning : Fluff, heavy make out session, getting caught ??

Summary : You've just arrived in your husband's village to settle in, and once you've finished settling in, you set off in search of him. You meet Naruto, who helps you find him. Little does he knows he DOES know who your husband is

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Words count : 2193

Kakashi Hatake was a man of many secrets. So few people knew who you were. Of course, there was Guy and Jiraiya, but otherwise no one else in the Hidden Leaf Village. The reality was that on one of his long missions he was paired with a ninja from Suna, aka you. You got along so well that you were entrusted with all missions concerning the common interests of your two countries. Over time, you grew much closer, and Kakashi ended up spending his rare vacations in Suna with you.

Of course, he was far, far from imagining that he would have the emotional capacity to open his heart to someone in this way, and to become romantically attached to them. But it happened, and when he realized it, it came as a shock. Without lying, he wasn't at all happy at first, wondering how he'd react if anything happened to you. Eventually, when all he could think about while lying on his bed at night was you and what you might be up to, and that spread to the whole day, he soon realized that his fear was not going to stop him from doing anything in his plan to keep you close to him.

And what a surprise it was when you told him you reciprocated his feelings fully. He thought he was going to cry, but he didn't have time to do so when he saw your face close to his. His body acted alone and he lowered his mask, letting you taste his lips. A few months later - knowing that you'd been working together for years - you got engaged. Before getting married in a hurry when your time off allowed it. Of course, Tsunade and Gaara - a close friend of yours - accepted the wedding, albeit inter-village.

Very few people knew about the wedding, and frankly no one could have guessed it, with Kakashi's ring hidden behind his protection gloves ( I myself practiced martial art but even in other sports rings are the first thing one has to take off but not here lmao ). And you weren't living in Konoha yet, but you will soon be. Yes, you'd chosen to move in with him rather than the other way round, knowing that the strong ties he had there meant you'd decided to follow him without following his decision to move to Suna instead, what a thoughtful lover he is.

So that's how you found yourself with a suitcase containing all the belongings of a shinobi, a straw hat on your head to protect you from the sun of Suna ( either you see this as a reference to One Piece or to the scarecrow Kakashi ;) )

However, there was a shadow over the picture : while you knew all the important points in the village, you didn't know the hell where your apartment was, though your ninja techniques enabled you to find it rather easily. Apartment check, Kakashi... not check. So you began to wander through the village under the curious gazes of ordinary inhabitants who didn't know who the hell you were, ninjas though knew since Tsunade preferred to tell them a ninja from Suna was going to settle there to save you from trouble with the police, thanks to her for respecting your privacy.

Suddenly a golden-haired boy you'd come to know, thanks to your now husband Kakashi, as Naruto, the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails, leapt in front of you.

"Hello miss, are you new around here ? I don't remember seeing you before ? What are you up to ?"

"It's incredible to talk so fast" you thought "He's really as energetic as Kakashi told me and he looks taller than in the photo frame" you thought before speaking aloud "Wo we don't know each other, I've just moved to Konoha and I'm looking for my husband"

"Oooh he's from Konoha I see ! Well welcome then. Perhaps I can help you ?"

At these words you smiled "Yes, I'd like that", thinking it over you added "He's probably training, but I've no idea where exactly"

"I know this village like the back of my hand, I'll probably be able to find it easily dattebayo ! Follow me !" he shouted before starting to run in one direction before stopping and looking at you sheepishly "Let's take a walk instead, I'm sure you've come a long way"

( He could have asked your husband's name before running off 😂 )

You nodded, laughing "Indeed, walking sounds more restful" and with that you made your way to the training area Naruto had described to you. He did disappear for a short moment telling you he needed to talk to someone before leading you to the training areas.

A long stretch of open ground, with what looked like a man-made waterfall and a forest below. Speaking of sunken, here was your husband, reading his book on a wooden bench not far from the foot of the waterfall.

Naruto, unaware of this detail, continued "Hey look there ! That's Kakashi sensei. He's going to help you find your husband. But as he's still reading his pervy book, we're going to have trouble moving him"

"Hhhh Jiraiya's books, they're pretty good"

"You know Jiraiya from where you come ?"

"Of course who doesn't ?!?” you said proudly before Naruto continued.

"Well then, you'll get along just fine" he said as he jumped off the waterfall, leaving you chuckling to yourself for a moment before you followed.

Even lying like that he looked hot.

"Kakashi sensei ! Kakashi sensei ! I have with me-"

"Naruto we are on a break, you'll start training again in half an hour" he said in a monotone yet commanding voice without lifting his nose from the book.

"But this lady is looking for her husband and I thought you might be able to help her"

Before he could even lift his nose from the book, you snapped back, "Can you even see daylight with that in front of your eyes ?"

The mere sound of your voice made him lose his composure, and he dropped his book, which came crashing down on his face as he struggled to get up from his lying position to look presentable, almost slipping in the process. As he finally managed to stand up, his book lay face down on the floor.

His dark eyes widened as he met your mischievous ones, a light red settling on his cheekbones, visible on one side of his face. He didn't know you'd be coming so soon "H-hey-"

"Kakashi sensei she's looking for her husband, that means she's no longer to be seduced"

"That's quite true" you said, holding back a laugh at the young boy's clueless state.

Kakashi smirked beneath his mask : "You're right, Naruto, her husband will probably do just fine. Go back to training, I'll help her"

"Ah, at last ! Good luck, miss !" shouted the boy before setting off for the training ground with a cheerful step.

Turning his attention back to you, Kakashi spoke more confidently, "So you're looking for your husband huh", bringing his hands to his hips.

Out of earshot, you seductively replied "Yes, I've had a long trip and I just need to spend some quality time with him"

"Oooh is that so ? "he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he took a step towards you, careful to keep his distance if anyone was watching. You hadn't yet discussed whether it was safe enough to make your relationship public. But living together, it would eventually come out.

He turned quickly, picking up his book and putting it in his back pocket. Then he raised his arm in the air, gesturing to another ninja a few yards away, before pointing at you. The other brown ninja, wearing a forehead protector, saluted you before giving Kakashi a thumbs-up, taking the time to give him a knowing look.

"Don't worry, that's typical Tenzo, he's always making funny faces" you chuckled at his words before greeting the boy. Then you started walking away from the training area.

"I hope you had a good trip. You didn't get lost on the way" he said, his voice much softer and giddier, with a joking tone, now that you were out of earshot.

"How could I have gotten lost knowing that my needy husband was always bringing me to Konohagakure to secretly spend time with me" you replied, making him chuckle nervously while scratching the back of his head.

The more you were walking and chatting the more he wanted to get close to you, he was itching to have his mouth pressed against yours. But in the middle of the village it was impossible. "Where are we going by the way this isn't the way home"

"No it isn't, we're a bit far from there. So I just thought- here" and with that he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you towards an alleyway out of sight.

"You just have to tell yourself it's an aperitif of what is to come" he said in a husky voice, lowering his mask before pressing his lips against yours, pushing you harshly against the nearest wall, his hands resting on either side of your head. Pouring into this kiss all the effect of the lack your absence has had on him.

"Ooh getting risky I like it" you said, wrapping your arms around his neck "What is going to come next ?"

"Keep this up and you might soon find out" and with that he grabbed your hips before lifting you up and as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He put his mouth back on yours, this time directly going to French kiss you ( French like me lmao ). His tongue caressed yours over and over again until your legs tightened around his waist.

That's when you both felt another chakra close to you. Its source was unknown to you, but the same could not be said for Kakashi. As he stepped back, Kakashi instinctively pulled up his mask, before gently placing you on the ground. As you gently resumed your breathing, your eyes lifted to the source of the chakra.

"S-sorry I didn't want to disturb you but Naruto told me earlier that she was looking for her husband I-I d-"

“Oooh so that’s were he went” you thought before exchanging a glance before kakashi interrupted him "Don't worry she found him"

Iruka's mouth opened and closed like a fish, his index fingers pointing at you and then at him repeatedly "you- erm eh ?" ( yeah that mean "You're married ?" )

You took a quick step before reaching out to shake his hand, "I'm Y/n Hatake. Kakashi's wife" you smiled widely, you've been dying since forever to say that. Kakashi under his mask was smiling too because he too was dying since forever to hear you say that. Hotter than any Icha Icha he has read.

Iruka stretched out his hand towards you, a genuine smile coming over his face which a few seconds ago had been totally embarrassed "Nice to meet you under that name" he chuckled nervously, still embarrassed by the situation before. Indeed, you have the brief opportunity to cross paths one day in the hokage's office during your travels on missions defending the interests of Suna and Konohagakure.

Suddenly as if he remembered with full force what he had stumbled on he spoke again " I-I-I'll leave you now, you're in good hands" "I bet she is " Kakashi said under his breath, as Iruka waved at you both before disappearing as fast as he appeared ( Naruto wasn't near going to hear the end of this, well I mean Iruka is going to slap the back of his head without ever telling him why )

Kakashi whose hands were encircling your waist from behind spoke up "So were were we my beautiful wife ?"

"We were about to go home because I'm not gonna get caught twice in the same day during my first day here"

"At least they'll know who you belong too" he chuckled a hint of possessiveness in his tone

"Well if I were the one hiding under a mask I'd say the same. But everybody sees my damn face so it's without me" you said as you made your way out of the alley "If you want it you'll have to get it" you said seductively before jumping and disappearing out of his sight.

For a second he was stunned, a smirk plastered on his face. Oh you wanted to play. Fine but should be careful because he is a hell of a player. You'd challenged him, so he was going to find you. He could still smell you trailing a track. Better be ready because he'll find you very quickly and he won't need to ask anyone if they've seen his wife. It's your game but here you're on his field. You won't be able to escape him. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🍩🥗 Again my requests are open 🥯🍮

A/n 2 : In the original version Naruto was supposed to think Y/n's husband disappeared and he was going to tell the whole village if they saw her husband. Y/n would have been so stunned by the way Naruto handles it she would have just followed to see what he was gonna do. At the end they would have eneded up at Tsunade's office and Kakashi would have been there and Y/n just goes : "Thank you for helping me" and she goes to stand next to Kakashi and Naruto is like 😃🤠🤡

But then I wouldn't have been able to add the French kiss scene 👀🤣😭

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake fluff #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x reader fluff #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi fluff #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #fluff #miri-writes

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mrshesh · 9 months

Note

hi! do you have any general hcs for the cod:ghosts boys?

general headcanons - call of duty: ghost's

overview: general headcanons of the call of duty: ghost's boys!

pairing: none!

genre: fluff, pure tomfoolery

a/n: hi anon! i'm thrilled i finally got a request for these boys. i love them so much, it's getting a bit unhealthy. you're truly the best for requesting them! i hope you love it!

x logan walker

He sucks at puzzles. He’s smart and tactical, but puzzles are on another level of difficulty for him.

He likes doodling a lot. If he has a pen and a surface to draw on, he will sketch a small smiley or a caterpillar. It has become such a habit that he doesn’t even think about it when he does it. It got so bad that once, Keegan called him out on it mid-doodle, leaving Logan embarrassed for a week.

He loves the ocean, but beaches annoy him. He hates sand. (I firmly believe his hate for them is from Hesh throwing sand in his face as children.)

He has a picture of him and Hesh as kids in his wallet. He feels calmer when he looks at it, getting into the habit of peeking at it when stressed.

He’s an avid Deftones enjoyer. He loves Beware and Diamond Eyes.

He likes caramel-scented things, but he doesn’t like the taste of it.

He has some insane dirt on Elias, and, of course, Hesh knows all of it.

For some odd reason, he’s phenomenal at parallel parking.

x david "hesh" walker

He loves movies. He can watch any genre! Horror? Great! Action? Love. Romance? Cute! Comedy? Perfect! He loves it all. Shows, however? Nope.

He takes pride in his nails being clipped and filed at all times. He was a nailbiter in his teens, so he cares about his nails more than he should today.

He can’t cook to save his life.

Eminem is his go-to artist. He loves and respects many artists, but Eminem will always be at the top of his list. He loves Stan.

He’s respectful in general.

He’s extremely secure and confident, yet he’s still pretty nervous when he talks to girls.

He loves long car rides. Driving around in his car while listening to his favorite songs brings out a unique joy in him.

He, unlike Logan, loves beaches! (He wasn’t the one who got sand thrown on him, so he’s thriving.)

He hates coriander.

x elias "scarecrow" walker

Unlike his son, Elias is great at puzzles! He’s disappointed Logan didn’t inherit that quality. He mourns it every day.

He loves pickles. (Same.)

He manipulated himself into liking beer many years ago.

People call him DILF all the time. It has happened too many times to count. He finds it funny, while Hesh and Logan are horrified every time.

He doesn’t know how to put on chapstick. He puts it between his lips and swipes it back and forth, not on his lips.

He got so much action when he was a teenager/young adult. He tells Logan and Hesh to “live a little” so they can experience that life, too.

He doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does, he listens to either Korn or Chris Isaak.

He adores Riley, sometimes stealing him from Hesh without warning.

x keegan russ

He secretly enjoys ASMR. It helps him unwind and de-stress, but not sleep, surprisingly.

He’s excellent at the game Mafia.

He has made way too many people giggle excitedly because of his voice. He finds it amusing but disturbing at the same time. He knows it’s attractive, but that many people? He has even made Elias giggle like a schoolgirl because of his vocal folds.

Keegan strikes me as a Slipknot fan. He finds Killpop and Vermillion to be sexy.

He loves grocery shopping.

He talks to himself a lot. He’s antisocial and quiet around others, but when Keegan’s alone, he keeps having full-on conversations with himself. Merrick caught him doing it once - he never brought it up again.

He enjoys lasagna a bit too much.

He had a motorcycle phase as a young adult. It got so bad he learned how to do a wheelie on them, but his love for them has died down in the many years he’s been alive.

He thinks wine is gross.

x thomas merrick

He cannot stand bananas. Everything about them makes him gag.

He gets such a rise out of being a bitch. He’s already annoying by default but strives to be even more insufferable for the fuck of it.

He, Alex, and Keegan smoke while being sentimental together at least once a month. (It’s always with Keegan and Alex - Elias, David, and Logan get left out.)

He listens to underground metal like Sold Soul, and he thinks it makes him superior to everyone else. (And he gatekeeps it.)

He’s immune to pretty much all physical pain except for waxing. It’s enough to make him cry.

He loved trains as a child.

His comfort song is Toxicity by System Of A Down.

His appetite is insane. This man can eat a horse and still be hungry by the end of it.

His calves are huge for some reason.

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fcthots · 7 months

Note

I'm literally tearing up this morning at the idea of Tim sitting in the cave, trying to get some important work done like usual when suddenly a wave of darkness ascends upon the cave. Like something out of a horror movie, dread washes over Tim as he fearfully creaks his head around to see Gus sitting on the chair, looking over Tim's shoulder—MENACINGLY.

I had so much fun writing this.

It was 5 am and everyone else had gone to bed. There was a fear gas attack and while no one had been unable to put on their rebreather, the manor was still on lockdown, though, just to monitor in case of any delayed effects. Tim wasn't supposed to be on the batcomputer but it was important! He was doing research on the new chemicals Scarecrow had added to his toxin and if their addition changed the effects of the formula as compared to the original. As it turns out, he was right. It seemed that now prolonged exposure could cause delayed effects. Fuck, Tim loves being right! He starts recording any other new effects the toxin may have.

A chill hits him. The hairs on the back of his neck raise. He can feel eyes with malicious intent watching him. After being robin for so long, he knows what the stare of a real threat feels like as it watches its prey. Fuck. Someone must have gotten into the cave. He thinks of yelling for Kon, but Kryptonians can't hear into the cave. His family is all asleep in their respective bedrooms, and there's no one that can get to him in time. He hasn't acknowledged their presence yet, so he could pick up his phone and pretend to send a funny text to a friend but actually text the other bats, but that could also backfire if his intruder swooped in while he was vulnerable.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Maybe his rebreather was cracked. Maybe this is all just delayed fear gas effects. Maybe one of his siblings hadn't handed all of their gear off to be washed and he's just getting a mini whiff of the gas, and that's why he feels the eyes of a predator on his back.

He hears something rustle.

Ok, so not a hallucination, probably. Auditory hallucinations usually take exposure to copious amounts of gas, but maybe this was all part of the new strand.

He could feel them getting closer. He slowly wraps his hand round a battarang that was left on the desk. He can't see anything in the reflection of the screen. On the count of three he has to turn around and face his opponent.

Three. Fuck, he's exhausted.

Two. He's too tired to be doing this.

One. Bruce is gonna kill him if he dies.

Go.

He turns around and stands all in one motion, staying as low to the ground as possible. He doesn't have long to take in all of his surroundings, so he does it quick. This would be so much easier if he had his mask, which can track the heat of body signatures, but he took it off so Alfred could clean it. He really hopes Alfred isn't the one to find his body.

He doesn’t see anything in his immediate line of sight. He keeps his body moving, so he's a harder target. He looks everywhere else. Nothing. Maybe it's an LOA assassin. Ra's needs to get off his dick already.

But he looks even in the spots where a ninja would be trained to hide, and... nothing. Nothing at all. An alarming amount of nothing. By his calculations there was an 85% chance that it wasn't a hallucination. He drops his fighting stance. He did forget to factor in his sleep deprivation...

As soon as his guard is down, he is immediately attacked from behind. He whirls around and drops back into a fighting stance. His training kicks in. Don’t look at the affected area first, look at your attacker first. He ignores the pain in his leg and looks to where they would have to be standing and...nothing. He looks down to his leg.

Fucking Gus.

"Get off of me, asshole!! Why are you even here? Can Jason seriously not sleep without his cat fucking night?" Tim tries to peel Gus's claws out of him where Gus's limbs are wrapped around his leg. "Ow! Fuck! Don't bite me! This is why I don’t pet you. Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me."

He finally tosses Gus off his leg and Gus runs away impressively fast for a cat if his size.

Tim yells out across the batcave, "I never thought I could hate a cat until I met you!"

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #39yuki #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd crack #gus the cat #jason todd x reader crack #red hood crack #red hood x reader crack #crack

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

Special Edition

Day 4 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Jason Todd x vigilante!fem!reader

Summary: Jason Todd doesn't like you. He does like Jane Austen, though.

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Warnings: angst, arguments, brief description of injuries, fluff, Pride and Prejudice quotes. reader is a vigilante!

A/N: Sorry this is late; thank you for being patient and the encouraging messages!! This is my first Jason Todd fic and I am so excited because I'm madly in love with him. He may be OOC, but I didn't specify which version so you can imagine whichever Jason you want! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Masterlist | DC Comics Masterlist | Request Info

You are the bane of Jason Todd’s existence. He’s never said it outright, but he shows you constantly that he doesn’t like you, trust you, and certainly doesn’t want to work with you. That doesn’t deter you from trying to bring a little Christmas spirit and friendship to the man in the red hood, though. All he’s missing is a little green and some lights.

December in Gotham is cold, wet, and busy for vigilantes. With Batman breathing down your neck about staying in fighting shape no matter the weather or the time of year, it can be easy to let Christmas slip by unnoticed, and Jason usually does. Since you joined the team, though, you’ve decided it will never happen again.

“Those lights are new,” you point out as you trail behind Jason, cutting through a previously undecorated alley.

“Focus!” he snaps, his helmet turning as he looks over his shoulder at you. “Just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean we stop to look at pretty lights instead of finding Scarecrow’s new hideout.”

You shrug and jog a few steps to catch up, your eyes focused on his red helmet as he slows. He pulls a grappling hook from his belt and aims it upward.

“You don’t have one do you?” he asks, his voice giving away how annoyed and tired he is.

“Pretty sure Bruce only gives those to his sons,” you answer sheepishly. “I can just take the ladder on the backside of the building. Or we can split up.”

Jason barks a single, harsh laugh. “One, Bruce isn’t sexist like that so maybe he just knows you’re incompetent. And, two, we’re not splitting up.”

“Because I’m incompetent?” you ask, smiling.

Jason’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighs before wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you against his chest until your feet meet the solid roof. His hand raises but lingers by your side as he looks down at you. Nodding to himself, he pulls his arm back and turns to look out over the freezing, dirty streets of Gotham.

“What are the chances he’d go for the water supply again?” you ask quietly.

“Not very good,” Jason answers. “Do you think before you ask those questions?”

“Think? No. But I do see Bane pushing a huge crate into the water department offices down the street.”

Jason jumps from his crouched position and moves toward you, the heat radiating off his body like a warm hug against your skin as he stands behind you.

There’s a hint of grumbling as he raises his voice to ask, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Bane didn’t walk out until after you asked, Jason. I may be incompetent but I’m not a complete idiot,” you answer.

You blame the December weather for your change in attitude; any other time, you would have made a joke and asked for his help since Bruce was working on your grappling hook and didn’t have a spare (not that you’d ever tell Jason the wire snapped and dropped you three storeys the last time he asked you to split up). But now, you’re tired and cold and want to get away from Jason before you say something you shouldn’t, so you jump off the roof and onto the fire escape as Jason’s yells fall on deaf ears while you rush toward the water department.

When you try the handle, the doorknob twists easily, but as you prepare to open it, a gloved hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back.

“What are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” Jason whispers angrily.

“Why do you care, Jason? If I die, you don’t have to work with me anymore, right?”

“Just because I don’t like working with you doesn’t mean I want you dead,” he snaps.

“Then watch my back and try not to be such a Grinch.”

You tear your wrist away from him, blind to his face dropping and his jaw clenching under his mask. Pulling the door open slowly, you slip into the shadows, grateful to feel Jason behind you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You found Scarecrow’s new hideout?” Batman asks.

Jason nods, but you keep your eyes on your feet.

“And you went in - without telling anyone - only to get into a fight with Bane and doused with Scarecrow toxin?”

Jason nods again.

“Who made the call to go in without backup?”

“I…” Jason begins.

You don’t look up as you cut him off. “I did. Jason wanted to wait but I went in without him and he followed me. It’s my fault.”

“Hood, you’re dismissed then. Alfred said you need 24 hours of rest before you can patrol again,” Batman says.

Jason turns, stopping to look down at you before walking out of the Batcave. You hear Bruce pull his cowl off, but keep your eyes trained on your shoes.

“Alfred said the only reason Jason got out unscathed is because you took most of the toxin; without a mask. Why did you rush in there, then put yourself in harm’s way when Jason is more prepared to deal with it?”

“I didn’t think about that. I saw a threat and wanted to help my fri- teammate.” He’s not your friend, you remind yourself, no matter how badly you want him to be.

Bruce sighs, then clicks his tongue. You finally look up at him, and he looks like he’s fighting an internal war between Bruce and Batman. The one who wants to bench you for being reckless and the one who wants to hug you for protecting his son, even if he didn’t need it.

“Thank you. Just- call for backup next time, okay?”

You promise that you will. “But if someone is in danger, I will not hesitate to help.”

“I know that. But try to be a little more careful in the future, okay? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you lie, your mind racing on the remnants of the toxin as your face aches from the impact of Bane’s punch.

As you exit the Batcave and cut through Wayne Manor, Jason is leaning against the front door, his mask gone and his blue eyes leveled on you.

“Did he bench you?” he asks.

“No. Just told me not to do it again.”

Jason nods and pushes off the door, walking to you and looking down into your eyes. “That was incredibly stupid and if Bruce didn’t have this attachment to you, I’d be fighting him to get rid of you or stick you with someone else.”

“Sorry you feel that way,” you mumble, skirting around him and walking outside.

You breathe in the fresh air and try to ignore the feeling of your heartbeat in your face. You’ll undoubtedly have a bruise, so maybe it’s time to finally wear the mask Bruce seems keen on convincing you is for your safety. Maybe it’ll get Jason to lighten up, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bruce must’ve given a powerful lecture if it got you in the mask,” Jason teases.

You hum, hoping you don’t have to say anything and make the pain in your jaw worse.

“Just ordinary patrol today, so we can split up if you still want to,” he offers.

You shrug, watching the helmet tilt as its unblinking eye slits stare at you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” you say. “Split up, then.”

You take the East side of your quadrant while Jason goes West. As the night goes on and your pain medicine wears off, you want to curl up into a ball on one of the roofs you're jumping across and go to sleep. You slow before stopping in the middle of a roof, gently pressing your hand against the underside of your jaw, trying to alleviate the pain.

“What are you doing?” Jason asks, his voice distorted by the mask as he appears suddenly behind you.

“Nothing,” you say, the word mumbled by your hand holding one side of your jaw closed.

You hear his footsteps as he walks around you, stopping in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face before gently lifting your mask to your nose. His sharp inhale is barely audible through the helmet, but you catch it.

“Look that good?” you joke.

“When did that happen? Tonight?”

“No. Bane punched me two nights ago; it’s getting worse, as usual.”

“You should have told someone; what if he had broken your jaw?”

“Then you wouldn’t have to hear my commentary that you love so much.”

“Can you take anything seriously?”

“Can you stop taking everything seriously?” you argue. “I got hurt, so what? You don’t even like me!”

“I never said- no matter my feelings, you’re my teammate. Just tell me this stuff.”

“Because you’re such a good listener,” you mutter.

“Let’s go. We’ll finish patrolling together.”

You nod, pulling your mask back down and following Jason to a roof with a bird’s eye view. You sit on the edge beside him, looking at the twinkling Christmas lights scattered throughout Gotham.

“What do you want for Christmas?” you ask.

Jason’s mask swings toward you. “What do I want for Christmas?” he repeats incredulously. “Oh, let’s see… a partner who doesn’t rush us both into danger, a life that isn’t marked by death and loss, a team that doesn’t look at me like I’m one second away from becoming a supervillain, and maybe, if there is anything like Christmas magic, a day where you don’t act like my life is worth more than yours!”

You hold your breath as he yells at you, releasing it when he looks back out to the skyline.

“Red, we’re here to relieve you. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” Red Robin says through the comm system.

Jason storms off as soon as he hears that, leaving you alone two nights before Christmas.

“I don’t think they have that on Amazon,” you whisper to Gotham, rubbing the good side of your face to stop yourself from crying.

✯✯✯✯✯

Bruce gave you a few nights off, presumably because Jason complained about you. The morning after Jason told you what he wanted for Christmas, you get a package containing the gift you thought he’d like. You wrap it, then set it on your kitchen counter, unsure whether it’s worth it to take it to him or if you should leave it at the manor while he’s gone. Shrugging, you decide you have time to make the decision and walk to your couch, queuing your favorite Christmas movie and trying to push Jason Todd out of your head. Deep down, you always believed he was mean because he cared and kept you safe by keeping you at arms’ distance, but now you’re not so sure.

On Christmas Eve, you find yourself standing outside Jason’s apartment, his gift in one hand and the other hand ready to knock. Taking a deep breath, you hope for the best and knock. The door opens a moment later, and Jason looks at you, his gaze catching on the bruise momentarily.

“Um, I just wanted to bring you this. And say that I’m sorry. Merry Christmas,” you explain as you extend the bag to him.

He takes it, pulling his eyes from yours to peek past the tissue paper. His blue eyes widen as he sees what’s in the bag before he closes the door quickly. You step back, hurt, and prepare to leave when the door opens again. Jason pulls you into his arms and into his apartment, kicking the door closed behind him as he holds you close. Your arms wrap loosely around his waist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Your arms immediately tighten around him, and you press your uninjured cheek against his chest.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course. Merry Christmas, Jay.”

“No, no,” he begins, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his shining like a frozen lake. “You don’t say ‘of course,’ like I deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done to you. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to apologize, but I just..”

“Push people away because you think you’re a bad guy?” you suggest quietly.

“I am a bad guy,” he responds.

“No, you’re not. Jason, do you push people away for you or for them, and their safety, because you care about them?”

Jason is quiet as he stares into your eyes, dropping his gaze to your bruise once. “I care about you,” he whispers. “You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

“She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes,” you quote.

“Where did you find a special edition of Pride and Prejudice this close to Christmas?” Jason asks, smiling brightly.

“I thought it was going to get here too late.”

“Thank you. For the book and for pushing back.”

“You’re worth it, Jay. Merry Christmas.”

He barely lets you finish before he pulls you in for another kiss the Christmas lights twinkling on the Gotham skyline starkly contrast the streets below, going unnoticed in the background as you realize Jason only pretended not to like you because of how much he cares for you. That, and being wrapped in his arms, is the only Christmas gift you’ve ever needed.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #fem!reader

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constesplanetarium · 6 months

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Watch the show.

☼⚠︎ Male! Yandere Circus Ringleader/Magician x GN! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Getting a little shocking now.”

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

this is inspired off what im dressing up as for halloween, literally a circus ringleader :)

i hope u guys like him <3

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TW! General Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, jealousy, aggression towards other guys, etc.), light sexual activity, violence, blood, murder, choking, dacryphilia, implied kidnapping.

Word count: Around 4k.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

The acrobats swing too and fro above you, lighting up the crowd's eyes with excitement and anticipation for what's next. Will one of them fall? Will they pull off the trick? You gasp as the acrobat flings himself across the stage, almost covering your eyes in case he misses and falls…

But as always, he lands the trick, the acrobat clinging onto the other one's arms as the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter. Your nerves ease as you smile softly at the acrobats on the stage, still swinging as they revel in the excitement.

This is your… What, fifteenth show by now? But you never get sick of any of the tricks they do. The circus always comes over for the fall, and a friend of yours won tickets from a raffle for the first show when this whole festival started, about a week ago. The show ended up being so good, that you went to the next one on your own accord. And then the next one. And the next one after that. And the next one…

They have shows pretty often, huh? It’s surprising how they never run out of energy.

You had never been interested in the circus before this, but the jaw-dropping tricks, alongside the good-looking members of the cast, made you stay and come back for every single show. It looks like many shared your sentiment, since it seemed that the crowd grew more and more ever since the first show of the season.

Ah, those acrobats are really cute. Maybe you can get lucky and get to meet both of them after the show. Maybe you’ll even get to meet the ringleader, he’s so handsome…

You don’t rip your eyes away from the rest of the show, cheering alongside the crowd at every little trick and flip the cast does; you cheer the loudest in your row once the ringleader bows in the center of the stage with his members, concluding the show.

“Make sure to come see us for our next show in two hours! You won’t want to miss it.” The ringleader does a simple wink, sending every fan of his into a frenzy. You still aren’t sure why people like him so much. People don’t even know his last name, let alone his first one. He’s just referred to as ‘the ringleader’ or ‘the mysterious master of the circus’ by eccentric journalists who are trying so desperately to keep the reader’s attention. A bunch of celebrities, along with reported billionaires and people from big spots in large companies have come here to watch his tricks, and maybe even strike business, but reportedly he’s always turned down these people, no matter how much money they offer him.

Strange. If they offered him a billion dollars to buy out his circus, would he take the offer? Ah, you know you would. Maybe he already has a private sponsor?

Once you gather your things, you step back out into the festive atmosphere of today's holiday; halloween. Jack-o-lanterns and scarecrows line the pathway back to the main center of the festival, and you can hear the screams of fear coming from the haunted house they all set up. The orange and red lights from the ferris wheel look so pretty from here…

You find yourself wandering around the festival for around 10 minutes, noticing every little detail the festival coordinators setup. There’s even cute little artwork for the signs pointing you in the events you might want to check out later. Looking at everyones costumes and the decorations makes you feel all giddy.

Oh wow, look at that huge skeleton! Your hand digs into your pocket quickly to-

Wait.

Your phone?

Where’s your phone?

You pat down your pockets, and the moment you realize it’s not with you, you run back over to the building, swinging open the door and bound for your seat. Holy shit, lady luck must be on your side today. Thank god no one had closed the entrance yet.

You bend down, trying to dig around for your phone on the floor. It’s so hard to see, since they already shut most of the lights off, damn it…

Where the hell is it?!

“Hello.”

Oh my gosh!

You jump up, almost stumbling right back down, yet a hand grabs your arm before you can fall, and you see who it is instantly once you look up.

“Looking for this?” The ringleader smiles cheekily, waving your phone around as the screen lights up your surroundings a bit. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited by the door to see if the owner would pop up.” The shock of seeing him this up close is so bad, you don’t even reach for your phone. He takes your hand in his and sets your phone down, right in your palm.

You slowly hold your phone close to your chest, and thank him for returning it.

“It’s not a problem.” Should you ask him for a picture? Maybe an autograph? “I’m glad you came back for it, instead of giving up, and assuming that someone already stole it.” You don’t even have paper for him to sign. Maybe he’ll sign your clothes or something?

Oh my gosh, he’s so much better up close…

“Are you alright?” He chuckles, brushing his hand across your cheek, and your body flinches in response. “You were zoning out there. Oh! I see,” He chuckles. “You’re surprised to see me up close.”

Right on the money.

Warmth spreads all the way up to your face, and all you can do is giggle nervously. God, it’s like you’re a schoolgirl asking out her crush.

“It’s alright. I find it flattering.” He glances between you and your phone for a moment. What’s up? “Would you like a picture?”

On my god.

He brushes up next to you, pressing your hips together as you open up your camera app quickly, setting it in selfie mode. “Is this okay?”

Yes.

“Good. Smile.” You would find it amusing how he’s holding up a peace sign for the picture, but you're more nervous about the hand he’s set on your hip, digging into your body.

“Oh, you aren’t going to take the picture?” Oh my god, the picture. “Or are you distracted by something else?” You glance up, seeing his guilty smile as his gloved hand rubs your hip slowly.

These pictures need to be taken before something else happens right here, right now.

You signal him to look over and smile, snapping a couple random pictures. You don't even know if they turned out good or not. Is it hot in here? You should probably get out.

You thank him quickly, and turn your heel-

“Leaving so soon?” You turn back to see a clear frown on his face, the dimmed lighting shining right on him. “You can stay a bit longer, if you’d like. I’m not in a hurry.”

But what about his next show? Doesn’t he have to prepare?

“The break is more for my members than for me.” He sits down in an empty seat, patting the spot next to him. “Come, sit. I would love to have your company for longer.”

You walk back up and sit down next to him, shuffling in your seat as he takes his hat off, setting it down in the empty seat adjacent from him.

“Thank you for staying with me.” He clears his throat and starts to take his gloves off, flexing his fingers in and out as he tosses the gloves in his empty seat too. “Meeting all types of people when they come to my shows is wonderful, but not being able to talk to them personally makes me a bit sad.”

You smile empathically, and he returns your smile.

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers, his smile widening at the thought of his sudden new idea. “How about I save you a seat for my next show? Please, tell me where you’d like to sit!” Woah, really? “I mean, you are coming to my next show, right?”

Uh. You were planning to go to the ferris wheel with a friend of yours, actually…

His mood shifts from happy, to immediate disappointment. “Well, you can just visit the ferris wheel after my show, can’t you?” Well, you COULD, but-

“Oh please, I would really like you to be at my next show…” He takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your palm. “Please?”

Urgh.

“Oh, just amazing!” He laughs and stands up, pointing to a seat around the front row. “How about there? Perhaps I can even perform a trick for you once I’m on stage! How does that sound?”

Wow, this man’s pulling out all the stops, huh? You can’t help but thank him again, from saving your phone to getting you a free seat. This ringleader’s so nice…

“Oh? ‘Thank you, Mr. Ringleader?’” He laughs and grabs your shoulder, rubbing it affectionately like you two are good old friends sharing a joke. “You don’t have to call me that! Loosen up a little, will you?” Even with his encouragement, your whole body is still tense with nervousness. “Please, call me Mr. Vidales.” So that’s his last name! Ah, how pretty…

“Now, now, don’t be all fidgety with me.” Mr. Vidales grins, clasping your hands with his again. Oh my god, what if your hands are clammy now? But the way his thumb is caressing your hand is strangely putting you at ease. “You’ve been looking all over the place.” He tilts his head while peeking at you, seemingly lost in thought, until his face lights up. “Ah, how about this? Watch me.” He pulls out a small deck of cards from a coat pocket around his right thigh, pouring the cards out into his hand. It doesn’t take long to see he’s performing a small card trick for you, yet you don’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Pick a card, any card.” He murmurs, the enthusiasm still there behind his voice, but it also sounds like he’s sweet talking to you, enticing you further. You pick a card on the far left, looking at it discreetly.

The 2 of hearts.

“Back in the deck now.” He shuts his eyes as you slip the card back in, and he shuffles it all with his eyes still closed. “Now,” he starts, picking a card from the deck. “Is this what you chose?”

NAH.

Hah! He failed the trick! You grin and shake your head, the king of hearts in his hand instead as his smile drops to a frown. “Oh.” He stuffs the deck into his left hand, placing the card face up on top. But strangely enough, he starts to smile, and reaches behind your head, leaning closer to you. “Now let’s see.”

Oh. He smells really, really nice…

Why is your heart racing?

You peek up at the ringleader’s face, your body warming up as he looks down at you, a mixture of amusement and something else in his eyes. “Ah, now what do we have here…” He whispers, and his hand drags down your back slowly as he shows the king of spades in the deck on his left hand. Is he still trying to prove he’s not cheating? You sigh at the shivers flowing up your spine, pressing your thighs together once you feel the heat between your thighs get more intense. Lord, he’s good at this. Does he do this often or something?

“How cute.” He says adoringly, like he’s talking to a small puppy. “Look at you, how cute.” He repeats, his hand pressing itself against your waist, tugging you closer to him. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be showing you a trick…” He can show you something else in just a few seconds if he keeps this up. Mr. Vidales groans loudly once you palm his bulge, followed by a small laugh once you tease him for reaction. “Please, let me finish my trick. Unless you want to do something else right now…?” He begs quietly, and you sigh with a smile as you move your hand.

A bit disappointing, but you do want to see the end of this trick.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat, clearly still a bit riled up, but fine. “Now, watch me.” His warmth vanishes from your waist, and you see his hand come back into view with…

The 2 of hearts in his right!?

You stare at his right hand in awe, as he waggles the card around a bit, grinning sheepishly at your dumbfounded expression. “Good, huh?” Even after all of that, you never saw the deck vanish from view! How did he…?

“I’m not just a ringleader,” he says. “I dabble in some magic here and there too.” He shuffles the cards again, stuffing them back into the box, then back into his coat pocket. A light clap of your hands at his trick and his mood shifts from proud to flustered, fidgeting with the buttons on his outfit as you praise him for the trick.

“Thank you, thank you.” Mr. Vidales bows a bit and laughs quietly. “Your praise is very appreciated.”

… He looks scared. Ah, no.

Shy?

“There must be something on my face, with the way you’re looking at me, it’s…” Mr. Vidales stops talking, staring into your eyes for a moment. “Oh…”

Is he okay? You frown, tugging on his sleeve in concern for his well being. He seems to snap out of his trance, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh! Erm, yes,” he says. “Yes, I’m fine.” A smile spreads in his face quickly, but you can’t help but think that it’s all insincere.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He sighs. “It’s just some fatigue.” There’s a voice in the back of your head, telling you repeat that he’s lying, but you ignore it in favor of his charming voice and attitude.

Maybe he just needs some time alone?

And, to be completely honest, the hunger’s kind of getting to you too; maybe you can grab a bite to eat and bring something back for him?

“Oh, please.” He nods quickly. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Perhaps you can get me those cinnamon bites with the glaze? They’re delicious.”

You fidget with your wallet as you run out the tent, waving him goodbye as you run for the food stalls.

Hopefully the lines aren’t too long…

The line was pretty damn long. You glance down at your phone to check the time, and decide to jog back over to the tent once you notice it’s already been 25 minutes. And it’ll probably take you another 5 minutes to get there, ugh, the ringleader probably thinks you left to go on a couple rides or something, and forgot about the food entirely.

You slow down once you notice the door’s closed, and look around for a sign of him, but there’s nothing around. Maybe there’s another entrance in the back?

Clutching a drink in one hand and a bag, witn a box of sweets at the bottom in your other, you make your way to the back of the building to find the door slightly ajar, and you use your foot to kick it open the rest of the way, walking through.

There are several doors on both side of you, and by just reading the names on the doors, you can tell these are the member’s dressing rooms! Ah, no way…

It’s so tempting to go up and knock on one of their doors, but you have to shake your head a little to get those thoughts out. Mr. Vidales. That’s who you’re looking for.

You wander around for a bit until you come up to his dressing room, about to bang on the door, but as soon as you try to, the door slowly opens up, and you-

You…

What.

What?

The smell of iron and the sight of crimson fill your vision as you stare at the ringleader, tugging and shoving a man's body into a small closet. It looks like the man was stabbed repeatedly in the chest, along with the broken teeth in the pool of blood in front of you, and a spot of blood on his head.

Isn’t that… Isn’t that one of the employees here? He literally gave you free shit, what the hell…

Mr. Vidales’s face is splattered with blood, alongside his chest, and his outfit has puke on the lower side of his coat. A fallen, bloody knife lies on the ground, surrounded by his victims blood.

“Bastard. Must’ve wanted to give me a goodbye gift before his passing…” He scoffs, staring at the stain with disgust.

The police.

You need to call the police.

Mr. Vidales looks up at the sudden stream of light, and a couple beats pass as neither of you move from the sheer shock.

“Oh.”

Run.

You turn your heel, but trip once someone grabs onto your arm and pushes you down, spilling your drink all over the floor. You try to scream, but a hand covers your mouth instantly, and you feel the tears start to flow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He frantically whispers and he climbs on top of you, his hands shaking and bloodied as he struggles to keep you quiet. There’s blood all over him, and he’s spreading it onto you. All over your mouth. Your body.

It’s sickening. You have to fight back the urge to throw up once he turns you over and you see his face. Why does he look so excited to see you?

“Stay quiet. Quiet.” He hushes you, keeping your mouth covered as he helps you up. "It's okay darling, see?" As soon as you get up, you’re going to run. That’s what-

“Quiet, or I’ll kill you.” A sharp knife is suddenly pointed at your throat, and you let out a choked-up sob. “Oh, I’m so sorry darling…” He whispers, as he slowly lets the hand from your mouth go.

You don’t dare scream.

“Come on, come.” He pushes his arm against your waist, slowly pushing you back as he steps into the room, shutting the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, or kill you. I promise.”

You shut your eyes as soon as you step in, shaking as you hear the door lock. The bag you’re holding is slowly taken from your grasp, and set down with a thud on his desk, along with the knife. All you can do is listen to what he says.

“Oh, you did get my favorite! Thank you.” Mr. Vidales cooes, pushing you closer as you wince at the gesture. You can feel the blood seeping through your clothes. “Shame about the drink. I’m sorry for grabbing you so tight.” He sighs. “Now, let me just…”

He slips his coat off, revealing that the blood stain on him went deeper than expected, staining his grey undershirt with a dark crimson. You stare at the blood on your own body and almost feel like puking yourself.

“There’s no point in running,” his face is full of pity, yet he smiles at you all the same. “My acrobats are already outside, waiting to catch you if you try to run. Not that I’d let you get that far anyway.” He wipes the blood on his hands away with a loose rag, the white of said rag being stained with that sickening red. “Weren’t their tricks just wonderful? I worked hard to teach them, you know.” You immediately catch that he’s stepping closer to you, and you back away in response, glancing around the room for another exit point. “I know a thing or two about flipping around myself. Maybe I can perform some tricks for you?”

There isn’t any. Not even a window.

“Why do you keep looking around? Why can’t you be happy with me?” Mr. Vidales whines, throwing the rag aside in frustration, with a small splat. “I did all of this for you! You like me, don’t you?” But… Why?

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid that someone else will hear him. “When I first saw you in the crowd, I saw your excited face and couldn't stop thinking about how adorable it was. But then,” He takes a step. “You came back. Again.” And he takes another few steps closer, suddenly feeling yourself bump into a wall behind you, frantically glancing around for a way out. “And again,” His breathing becomes shaky as he lunges forward, grabbing your arm as you try to escape from his right side, your left. You cry out in fear as he pins you up against the wall, grasping your neck tightly. “And again. And again, you came back every time. You must’ve loved seeing me so much…” The grip on your neck tightens. “Next performance, I’ll be up on stage with all of them. Performing just for you.” Your breathing becomes ragged and hazy from the lack of oxygen, but he acts as though nothing is wrong, kissing your cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do anything.” It’s getting hard to see. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and run down your cheeks as he kisses them away, licking them up before they drip down to your shirt.

“You’re adorable, even when you cry…” His soft lips press against your cheeks repeatedly, his chuckles making you feel sick to your stomach. “You’ll be all mine, ah,” Mr. Vidales lets go of your neck, and as you take those much-needed gasps of air, he hugs your body close to his, and you wince once you feel his hard cock press against your thigh. “There’s nothing better than that…” His hand wraps around the back of your neck, applying some pressure, but jot enough to cut off your oxygen

What the fuck…

You try to turn your head, trying to get a glimpse of the corpse so you can identify who it is, yet he’s already shut the door to the closet, so you can’t.

“Are you trying to peek?” He frowns. “You don’t need to look at him. He isn’t your concern.” It looks like he’s trying to avoid the topic of the dead body altogether. He reaches over and pinches your cheeks, chuckling at your displeased expression. “Ah, I hope you understand how angry I get when you get so starry-eyed by looking at my member’s performances.” Mr. Vidales sighs, pushing you over to his desk by your waist. “I wish it were only me that you show that adorable expression to.” Why the hell is he acting so casual? He just killed someone. Your eyes keep on glancing towards the door, since you don’t see any other escape route.

Oh, when will you get your chance?

“But, I guess we all can’t have what we want.” He stops. “Well, maybe I can.” He shoves you up against the desk, patting his hand on top. “Sit.”

Oh.

You shakily hop up to sit on his desk, and he slides himself in between your legs, both of your faces mere centimeters apart. You have to hold your breath with the way you can see every drop of blood slide down his face,

“Now you’re with me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He presses a small kiss on your lips, grinning. “You’ll get to be with me everyday!” What? He tugs you closer, pressing your back against his chest once he pulls you into a big bear hug.

“Yes! With me.” he says plainly. “Forever.” No way. You glare at him in horror, but his smile never falters for even a moment. The blood splattered all over himself and his clothing, along with his declarations of love towards you…

It’s so sickening.

“What a dream come true.”

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

happy halloween! ik i said i was gonna do the ghost boys for halloween, but i couldnt help myself </3

plus im gonna just extend the ghost boys into november bc i got hit w/ a mean writers block halfway thru….

hopefully this little fic can get me thru it

BUT IM WORKING ON OLIVERS DAY AGAIN SO YAY!!!!

yall gonna see the fnaf movie??? i am <3

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #x gn reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #not proofread #circus

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 6 months

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Trick or Treat - Miguel O'Hara

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here's a little Miguel blurb for ya!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara Word Count: 1k Synopsis: Halloween is not Miguel's favorite holiday.

"What are you wearing?"

"What does it look like I'm wearing?" you ask.

"Cat ears," he says dryly. You turn to smile at him and he jumps back. "And whiskers."

"Well, no one can say you're not observant, Miguel."

"What's the occasion?"

"Is that a joke?"

"I don't joke."

You walk over to him, recognize his tired face, the slump of his shoulders, and put your arms around him. "Long day?"

"You could say that," he says with a sigh. You give him a soft smile and he leans in to kiss you.

"I'm sorry, my love. And the occasion, is Halloween."

"Ah, how could I forget?"

"Don't pretend like you didn't notice a million little spider-kids on your way home."

"The real question is why are you dressed up."

"Didn't I already say this, it's Halloween." Miguel rolls his eyes at you and breaks out of your arms.

"You going to a party tonight?"

"No, I know you wouldn't want to do that." You follow him down the hall to your bedroom and watch as he undresses. "I just thought it might be fun to hand out candy and have a cozy night in."

"I like the cozy night in part," he says, snaking an arm around you, his bare chest warm against you.

"I figured I could convince you on that part," you say, kissing him. He hums deeply and suddenly you're falling back onto your bed, Miguel on top of you. "We could just stay here and I could find out if there's a tail to match this little outfit."

"Miguel," you say in a breath, squirming out of his touch as his hand travels down your backside. You roll out of bed and straighten your ears as you stand.

"Come back, baby."

"I can't," you tease, walking towards the door slowly.

"Come back," he says again, deeper. You open your mouth to respond just as the doorbell rings.

"Hold that thought," you say and rush towards the door. A pumpkin and a scarecrow are at your door and both happily take candy.

Miguel is behind you when you shut the door and turn around. He's frowning at you, and you notice that his shirt is still off.

"Don't you think it's a little chilly for that," you say, touching his muscular chest.

"Don't you think you could just leave that bowl at the door?"

"But then I would miss all of the cute kiddos."

"I don't care." He kisses you again, taking your chin in one hand and the bowl in the other. You are pressed against the wall, Miguel's muscular body against you. You could have stayed like that if you didn't notice the hand holding the bowl stretching towards the door.

"We are not leaving it at the door," you say, breaking away from his lips. "Now, why don't we find you a shirt and something spooky to watch."

Miguel sighs, a long suffering sigh, but follows you into the living room. You watch as he takes in the scene in the living room - three blankets over your couch: one with pumpkins, one with colorful ghosts, and one with some Halloween cats.

"I had to set the mood!"

"And set it you did," he says. Again, he is next to you, wrapping an arm around you. You kiss him softly and again, the doorbell rings. With a laugh you walk away from your growingly frustrated boyfriend and open the door to a few more trick or treaters.

"You missed three princesses," you say when you come back. Miguel has chosen a movie - one with a zombie bride in it - and you settle onto the couch next to him.

"Sorry I missed that," he says dryly. You come around the couch and rest in his arms.

"What's with you and Halloween?" you ask, looking up at him.

"I don't have a thing with Halloween," he says, "I just want to spend time with you."

"You are spending time with me."

"Not if you jump up every few seconds when the doorbell rings."

"You must have had a really shitty day," you observe. "I mean you can be negative, but I have not seen you this negative in a long time."

He kisses your forehead softly before taking a deep breath.

"Halloween . . . Halloween was Gabriella's favorite holiday. It was kind of our thing," he says. You sit up quickly and turn to face him.

"You should have told me that," you say, gently pushing his shoulder. "I wouldn't have--"

"You haven't done a single thing wrong. I should have told you. It's just . . . hard. It sucks."

"It does." You lean in to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't--"

"I am, and I love you."

"I love you."

You are not apart from him for long. His arm wraps around your waist and you're back in his arms, falling back on the couch. Sounds of the zombie bride fade into the background as your lips lock. His hands are rough as they graze your skin. You are just leaning into his body, breaking for air when the doorbell rings again.

"Son of a--"

You giggle as you get off the couch and bring candy to a cute little girl dressed as a cat. When you turn around, Miguel is there again. After sharing what he did, the weight on his shoulders seems to have lifted, but he seemed even more annoyed, this time around.

"We need to put the bowl outside?"

"We need to put it outside," he agrees.

You open the door and place it on the porch, and before you have even closed the door, Miguel is pulling you into his arms. You hear a splat and see a small web over your door handle.

"No more trick or treaters," he says, kissing you.

"No more," you say with a giggle as he wraps you into his arms and leads you back to the couch.

"Happy Halloween, my love," he says, hovering over you as he drops you onto the couch.

"Happy Halloween."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #spiderverse fanfic #spiderverse fanfiction

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 3 months

Text

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture.

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while.

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark.

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.”

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them.

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly.

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor.

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance.

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face.

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned.

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.”

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane.

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly.

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels.

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?”

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.”

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed.

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement.

“This is my childhood home.”

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her.

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly.

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips.

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob.

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling.

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs.

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back.

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head.

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her.

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched.

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed.

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants.

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves.

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth.

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right.

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting.

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her.

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.”

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him.

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her.

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips.

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction.

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed.

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands.

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled.

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily.

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust.

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace.

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded.

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.”

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered.

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips.

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert.

iii

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty.

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly.

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself.

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane.

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience.

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her.

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him.

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow.

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.”

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed.

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants.

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?”

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch.

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale.

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked.

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head.

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed.

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp.

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt.

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.”

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath.

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her.

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations.

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice.

“Your cum?”

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him.

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces.

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first.

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house.

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire.

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling.

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“But you understand.”

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.”

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground.

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly.

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.”

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?”

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.”

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?”

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more.

“Jonathan?” She started.

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice.

“What did he do to you?”

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak.

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold.

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma.

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net.

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him.

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded.

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.”

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air.

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss.

“Psychotic?” She offered.

“Psychopathic.”

“Deranged.”

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind.

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag.

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought.

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded.

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction.

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.”

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared.

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm.

“Yes, yes.” She nodded.

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind.

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall.

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it.

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house.

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane.

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?”

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched.

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued.

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply.

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion.

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?”

“Technically speaking, yes.”

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?”

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized.

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?”

#cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #smut #fanfiction #cillian x fem!reader #young cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #dc scarecrow #hot scarecrow #lady arkham #dc comics #dr crane

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 6 months

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"What's your problem with me?" Arkham Knight x F! Reader

Summary: Continuation of this story. Years later, your quiet morning is interrupted when the Arkham Knight sends his soldiers to collect you. Masks are torn away and the man you once loved is revealed but he's not the same Jason Todd you knew, will it be enough?

Pairing: Arkham Knight (Jason Todd) x F! Reader (wears glasses)

Warnings: 18 + for language, violence, blood, guns, mentions of death, torture, and killing.

Cross Posted on AO3

The rain streams down the window pane and you wipe at your eyes, the sleep coming off on your fingetips as you put on your glasses. It’s early and this calls for some tunes. You turn up the music on your phone, shaking your hips as you pour a cup of coffee.

The stillness of the morning is rather rudely interrupted by the shattered glass and the body sliding across your floor. You scream as three men crash into the apartment, guns drawn and you duck covering your head below the counter.

“Shit,” you hear someone shout, “where the fuck did she go?!”

“I don’t know, but we better find her. We know what happens when we fail him.”

You grab a knife off the counter, clutching it in your hands before taking a deep breath and counting to three. Their heavy boots round the corner and you pounce. The first one goes down with a scream, holding a hand to his neck where the blood gushes out, pouring over his fingertips.

“Shit,” you hear another shout, “get the fucking knife!”

The remaining two aim there guns and you wipe a hand across your forehead, the blood trailing across your skin. “You won’t shoot me! I heard you, you’re boss wants me alive.”

“He said alive, Princess,” the one on the left sneers, “he didn’t say spoiled.”

“Who the fuck do you work for?” the adrenaline is spiking leaving a metallic tang on your tongue. “What's your problem with me?!”

“Take her,” the one on the left flips a switch on his gun, the light turning from red to blue before he takes the shot. A bolt of electricity runs through your body and as the room darkens you hit the ground with a dull thud.

The yelling you wake too does nothing to ease the ache in your head. You blink, eyes adjusting as the room spins in a kaleidoscope of colors. “Shit,” you close your eyes rubbing your head. The couch beneath you is well worn but the blanket thrown across you is soft to the touch.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO HURT HER!” a modulated voice shout, “I DONT TOLERATE MISTAKES.” The gun shot has your eyes snapping open and you struggle to burrow deeper into the couch.

The door is thrown open and a masked figure steps inside. Their chest heaving. You yelp when they smash the gun down on the table and their head quickly looks at me. “You’re safe,” the voice says, their hands raising up to show them empty, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’d beg to differ,” you clutch the blanket tighter, “are they dead?” You nod towards the door behind them.

They pause glancing over their shoulder before letting out a very human sigh, “yes. They’re dead.”

“Then why would I trust you?”

They stand their for a moment contemplating what you’re unsure. They lift a hand and flick a switch, “because I would never let anything happen to you.”

Your chest pounds, and you stand nearly falling over with the way your head spins. The mask is still in place but you know that voice. He reaches out to help before you fall to the floor, his hands quickly retreating when you right yourself. “Jason?” you whisper, the ache growing the longer he waits to answer.

He turns, walking over to the window gazing down at the city. You follow, always the moth to his flame. Below is chaos, every sort of bus imaginable filled to the brim as people fight for a seat out of the city. “What’s happening?”

“Scarecrow gave them a taste of what true fear looks like,” he replies somberly.

“I don’t understand…”

“I couldn’t,” he fumbles over the words, “I couldn’t let you go.”

“Jason,” you press a hand to his arm softly.

But he’s quick, pressing you into the wall, a gloved hand around your throat, “Jason Todd is dead!”

You grab the hand, digging your nails in but he’s not squeezing, just pinning you to the wall. He trembles, brow furrowing beneath the mask at your lack of fear. “Jason,” you whisper, “take off the mask.”

He squeezes and you gasp before he lets go, his face getting closer to yours, the cold metal of the helmet pressed to your cheek, “I told you, Jason Todd is dead.”

“Then who are you? Why am I here?”

“I’m the Arkham Knight. And you’re here because- “ he steps back, leaving you pressed against the wall. He rest his hands on the rail, tightening his grip. “Hal’s is gone.”

“What?” you press of the wall, “what do you mean?”

“Scarecrow pumped his fear gas into the place. The patrons tore each other apart. I had you brought here so you would be safe.”

“My employees? The customers? They’re all dead?” Your stomach churns and you feel nauseous. “I’m gonna be sick.” He turns grabbing you before you fall and helping you to the couch, the trash can appears in his hands and you lose the contents of your stomach.

“Oh my god,” you press a hand to your head sobbing, “why didn’t you just let me die?! That was all I had left of him. If you’re not really Jason then I have nothing. Just put me in the cold ground beside him.”

“You own the diner? I thought you just worked there.”

“I bought it a few years ago. It was all I had left of him. I couldn’t let it go.” You press tour palms into your eyes, rocking back and forth, “I couldn’t let him go.”

The hiss of the mask opening makes you freeze and you keep your eyes shut tight. “Look at me,” his voice is crystal clear and the tears flow down your cheeks threatening to drown you. You shake your head, and his voice comes out more forcefully, “look at me.”

“No,” you cry.

He grabs your wrists, tightening around them painfully, before he pulls you up, “LOOK AT ME!”

The air is sucked out of your lungs, tears streaming down your face, and you whimper as his hands tighten, not doubt leaving bruises.

It’s him.

A ghost of a man you loved, his skin is covered in scars, a raised brand of a J on his cheek. His eyes are wide and his breathing is erratic as he meets your eyes. “Jason,” you cry, “oh my god, you’re alive.”

His group loosens and you collapse against his chest sobbing. Muscle memory takes over and he holds you to him, his hands rubbing over your back. His chin resting on the top of your head.

You pull back, your hand resting on his cheek and his eyes close, leaning into your touch. “I love you,” you whisper, “I love you so fucking much. I never got to tell you,” you speak quicker almost afraid you’ll wake from a dream. “I know you knew it though, how could you not? I never stopped loving you.”

His eyes slowly blink open, his voice pained, “I’m not the Jason you knew, Doll. He died in the underbelly of Arkham.”

“Arkham?” you furrow your brow, “you’ve been at Arkham Asylum this whole time?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “but I was there for two years. The Joker…he tortured me…burned me, cut me, beat me, broke me.”

“Oh god,” you can’t even imagine what he’s been through, “how did you escape?”

“He left me to die. Beat me within an inch of my life with a crowbar and left. I think he got tired of me.” He sounds exhausted and you push him into the couch, looking around the room before seeing the restroom and taking a step towards it. He reaches out for your arm, “don’t leave me.”

“I’m not,” you promise, “never again. Trust me.” He nods, letting you go and you run to the bathroom, rinsing your mouth with water and grabbing a threadbare towel and rinsing it under cold water.

You walk back into the room and approach slowly, sitting down onto the couch beside him. “Tell me everything.”

He tells you how he escaped Arkham, how he fled when he realized the Joker was still alive, that he’d been replaced. You remove his gloves, brushing the blood from his fingertips as he tells you the tale. “Why didn’t you ever come and find me?”

“I did. I went to the diner and saw you sitting there. The same beautiful girl I left behind. But I wasn’t the same Jason you knew. My time with the Joker changed me. I didn’t want to taint your memories but returning to you half a man.”

“I hate that you took the decision away from me,” he turns his head to look at you, “I hate that you think I’d love you any less because of what happened.”

“I’m a murderer,” he states it plainly, “I’m going to destroy Gotham. I’m going to kill Batman. I’m going to burn this city to the fucking ground and when it’s gone I’m gonna dance on it’s grave.”

“Okay,” you whisper, his eyes widening as you straddle his waist. Your arms wrapping around his neck, his hands firm on your waist as he tugs you closer. Your lips but a breath away, “what’s next?”

“You don’t know what you're asking for,” he doesn’t push you away, instead he leans closer. “If you stay I’m going to drag you down with me.”

“Sounds perfect,” there is no space left between you and his lips turn up into a smirk you’ve not seen in years.

“Yeah?” he whispers, his lips brushing yours with every word.

“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” His mouth slams to yours and you moan, the feeling of home is euphoric.

“Fuck,” he groans, devouring your mouth in a mess of tongues and teeth. “I missed you so much, Doll. I never got to tell you I love you.” He breaks away a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. His eyes turn black with rage, his grip on you tightening, “that fucking clown took everything away from me.”

“Come back,” you run your hands through his hair, “he can’t hurt us anymore. He’s dead, nothing but ash. I’m real,” you grab his hand and he lets go pressing his hand to your chest so he can feel your heart, “you’re alive, you made it out.”

His eyes go soft, the pupils receding as he listens to the thump of your heart. His breathing slows down to match your own. “I’m going to burn Gotham,” he repeats, “I’m going to kill Batman.”

“Okay,” you nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Kill Batman, burn the city, and then when you're done we leave. We leave all of this behind and live our lives together. We put away the masks, and go.”

“I love you,” he kisses your lips softly whispering the words over and over again.

“I love you. All of you. I’ll be here when you get back,” you lean back pressing the button on the helmet, his eyes never leaving yours the entire time as he’s sealed back inside. The eyes glow and you smile, giving a kiss where his mouth would be, “Now go kill the Batman.”

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x you #Female Reader #Arkham Knight x Reader #Arkham Knight x you #Batman #Autumn Writes

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months

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Hi could you do a Morpheus x reader where the reader is krypton (like supergirl) and they are husband and wife and the reader protects him but the bad guys uses him to get to the reader and they use the green kryptonite which causes the reader to pass out and he catches the reader and carries them to their shared bedroom and waits till the reader wakes up and have a happy ending

Potato Chips

Dream of the Endless x Krypotian!Reader

Summary: "Ah, yeah. I can't seem to catch a break," I groan, "one moment I'm buying potato chips, next thing- BANG! Shot with kryptonite."

Word Count: >600

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, mervyn 'i will die for y/n' pumpkinhead, nightmare!dream, protectiveness, fluff?, typos, etc.

A/N: hi nonnie i had a similar request to yours before so i did this alshfasfh and i hope you like it (: Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"My love," is the first thing that my senses register when I relapse into consciousness.

I rouse with a cold sweat. I feel a hot hand on my cheek. My eyes flutter open-- or at least I feel them flutter open. I rub my eyes with my palm and release a groan.

"How are you feeling?" the voice grumbles, deep and loud. It echoes through every crook and chamber; it rings in my ears, effectively waking me up.

I open my eyes, finding I was laid in darkness. I sit up from the cushions and blink rapidly, as if willing the color and light back into my eyes. It doesn't work. But then I see something glimmering in darkness; there were specks of shimmer. Instinctively, I knew it was Dream's eyes.

I reach out to his cheek, "Dream? What's going on?"

The room vibrates when he speaks, "you were hurt."

I straighten up. Yeah, that would explain why I can't see in the dark right now.

I take a moment to think back on the events that happened prior to being submerged in this darkness. Why was it so dark anyway? Am I in the Dreaming?

And then it clicks.

"Ah, yeah. I can't seem to catch a break," I groan, "one moment I'm buying potato chips, next thing- BANG! Shot with kryptonite."

"I removed the shard from your side," he speaks tightly. I do my best to really focus on his face but it was just too dark for me to see.

"Dream, why is it so-"

CRACK! There is a loud creaking sound, followed by a voice that steps in with an orange light, "BOSS!"

A similarly orange pumpkin head draws near. The cigarette in his mouth is lit by the candle in his hand, "I finished the torture room."

"Torture room?" I mumble back.

Dream pulls his face away from me and looks at his scarecrow servant. Mervyn does not look at his master at all, even as he says, "very good."

"Wait- what tort-"

"I ordered every nightmare to have at it with the miscreant who was stupid enough to mess with our lady."

Our lady? So he- "Wait- hold on. Why is there a torture-"

Dream pulling away makes my words go dry, that, and finally seeing his form with the help of the one light in the room. I suddenly wish I hadn't looked. He rose up to the ceiling, body long, spindly, dark, matted in material I couldn't make out. He had feathers? Scales? Horns? Claws? Appendages? He was terrifying; a true nightmare, so much so, when my breath caught in my throat, I am stunned and forced to look away.

"Very good, Mervyn," his voice bellows, making a shiver run down my spine.

I feel him look at me. I cannot look back.

"My love," my Nightmare speaks, "I will return in a moment."

I can only squeak in response.

Slowly, the darkness in the room dissipates. When the light touches us again, I turn to Mervyn, who blows out his candle.

I release a sigh, "what was he?"

"What do you mean, milady?" Mervyn takes his cigarette between his fingers.

"I mean Dream! He was-" I place my hands on my head, "he was horned! And- and gooey and -"

"You mean you actually looked?" Mervyn chuckles in surprise, "wow. Love is wild. I've never once felt inclined to look at my lord when he was in nightmare form," he puffs some smoke, "don't worry. It's not for you. It's for the bozo that shot you."

I raise a finger at that, "so the torture room-"

"My best work to date," Mervyn says, "of course," he begins to walk off, "I had to work last minute and overtime," he grumbles on his way to the door, "but, I mean, at least, for once, it's not entirely irrational-" he slams the door on his way out.

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fanfic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus fanfic #morpheus x you #the sandman x you #dream fluff #nightmare!dream of the endless #dream of the endless x you

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multifanatics · 1 year

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Waiting Out a Storm

A/N: I put nearly everyone in this so I could get a taste of their characters. I nearly fell asleep writing this so hopefully its not horrible.

Warnings: Sexual content, General fluffiness, Anxiety due to storms, There could be more that I didn't think of.

Edward Nygma // Riddler

It’s raining and he’s unable to hear himself think against the loud noise of the wind.

He’s annoyed nonetheless, he can’t get work done in these conditions.

Makes himself hot chocolate and steals all the blankets in the house.

If you're nice to him he’ll maybe share one blanket but don’t count on it.

If the power goes out and there’s nothing to do.

He’s offering you to warm him up.

He gets cold and hates being cold.

He’s miserable and makes it your problem more than it is his.

If you seem nervous or scared because of the storm he may be more accommodating to letting you have blankets. MAYBE.

One way or another definitely leads to sex.

Victor Fries // Freeze

It’s snowing in Gotham? It’s Christmas for Victor.

The wind and heavy snow he’ll be outside the entire time.

That is of course if you aren’t at all nervous due to the blizzard.

If you are that’s alright, He’ll stay inside for you.

Making sure you are warm enough.

You both are going to sit on the couch and watch your favorite movie.

Power goes out? May not be what you want but he’s willing to play chess or any other type of board game with you.

If you ask him, he may be willing to try and keep you warmer. Even if his body temperature is lower then the current storm.

Keeps you wrapped up in blankets no matter what.

His body temperature can handle the negatives but yours can’t or at least shouldn’t.

Harvey Dent // Two Face

Harvey hates storms, while Harv doesn’t mind them.

Harvey will cuddle you under piles of blankets clinging to you for warmth.

While Harv will more than likely be found outside if the coin allows him to be.

Otherwise Harv is indoors and clung to you in a much different way than Harvey.

Harv typically has his hands on your hips, chin on your shoulder everywhere you go.

While Harvey is much more a pile of blankets and cuddles.

Human furnace and knows it.

Harv would be much more open to fucking for warmth, even offers.

Harvey strikes me as the kind of man who would build a pillow fort during a storm if you’re both anxious or the power is out.

While Harv would be fine just falling asleep.

Jonathan Crane // Scarecrow

One of the first things you told him was your fear of storms.

And now he gets to watch how you react.

He does not leave your side during the storm for personal reasons that can range from your warmth to your fear.

Horror movies, blankets, and hot chocolate.

If the power goes out? Horror stories with a flashlight like they do at camps in October.

Cuddle him and tell him about your fear he was a psychiatrist after all maybe he can help… or make it much worse by accident, possibly.

I’m in the middle of him waiting for you to offer sex or he doesn’t enjoy it during a storm.

I see him as a “No power, no problem.” kind of guy and somehow getting everything he needed done.

He gets cold and sort of carries around a blanket like a cape. Over his shoulders and occasionally encasing him if he stands still.

Paranoia is his specialty, don't try to hide it from him, he’ll find out anyway.

Jervis Tetch // Mad Hatter

Tea party in the dark even if the power is working.

Definitely at least a little bit anxious himself.

Is against any kind of “more heat” ideas you can think of.

He has a routine, hiding in blankets and drinking tea in the dark and silence.

Though since you’re there maybe it doesn’t have to be silent.

Sharing blankets is a must with him, maybe not all cuddly but definitely share your blankets.

Can be clinging if he’s extra anxious.

He keeps the power off even if it’s working. He can’t hypnotize the lights to stay on so he rather not have the surprise.

Super sweet if you are anxious as well.

Recites his favorite poetry, books, or lines from a movie.

Joker

His current hideout has a backup generator so don’t worry about the lights going out

What? If there’s no lights how is he supposed to know if people actually enjoy his jokes?

He’s nowhere to be seen except you know he’s in the same place as you.

He takes this time to get more work done.

If you need him for warmth you can sit on his lap while he works.

If he doesn’t have anything to get done? He’ll drive you mad with a bunch of different jokes.

He doesn’t cuddle and he won’t screw around during a storm.

Gives you blankets then sits next to you.

He doesn’t get cold, maybe a little bit but it’s not something he can’t handle.

If you’re anxious he can always offer a kiss and some jokes.

Oswald Cobblepot // Penguin

It’s storming? Since when?

He has to look outside to know it’s storming.

He’s not at all phased by any type of storm unless he’s caught wind of someone plotting against him.

You need to voice to him you’re nervous and want him to stay around otherwise he’ll be off working.

If you voice to him you are anxious he’ll offer to watch a movie or something.

He’s burying you in the warmest blankets if you say you’re cold and you have goosebumps.

He’s actually very understanding and not very bothered by you at all.

It was about time he took a break anyway.

He has backup generators for backup generators he has power in all ways that matter.

If you want to screw around he’ll cockwarm but he’s only going to mess around if the mood takes him.

Harleen Quinzel // Harley Quinn

She complains.

She hates the cold but surprisingly doesn't mind storms.

Harley will cuddle or at least fall asleep on your chest or shoulder.

Will steal your blankets.

Clingy in a non clingy way. She’ll go up to you and stare at you until you get a clue, if you don’t then she minds her own business.

Definitely down for messing around, much more teasing.

She will do whatever the hell you want too.

She’ll talk about the days before she became Harley Quinn, and how much colder the cells are at Arkham.

If you manage to snuggle up to her she’ll share her blankets.

She clears all anxiety with her degree.

Pamley Isley // Poison Ivy

Claims its nature letting go.

LOVES storms and doesn’t mind the cold.

Checks on her plants during the storm.

Disregards you unless you pay attention to her.

Say you're cold and she will make the best herbal tea.

She’s calming your anxiety with talk of which plants grow better in the cold and why they need the cold.

She understands nature and wants nothing more than to ensure everything she likes is alright.

She shares her blankets with you.

Would watch whatever.

You fall asleep and she’ll leave you a few blankets and go outside to enjoy the storm.

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mangoisms · 10 months

Text

come back to bed, my love, my light is low

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ summary: Tim gets dosed with fear toxin and you are there to pick up the pieces.

━ word count: 3.3k

━ contains: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy

━ a/n: technically takes place as an extension of my other tim fic, i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute), but prior reading is not required! title is from this song

━ you can read this on ao3 as well

Gotham has always had a fairly impressive rogue gallery.

You have limited knowledge of the other cities and their various rogues but you think Central City and Keystone City, the Gem Cities of the midwest of which the Flash is in charge of, are some who can match up to it.

But in the end, Gotham’s will always beat them out.

You have the Joker, indiscriminate in his havoc, truly, truly unpredictable and for no reason other than he simply wants to. You have Two-Face, fates decided upon the coin toss. You have Mr. Freeze, Black Mask, Poison Ivy, Mad Hatter, and so many more.

The Joker is the worst of them, though. That is the general consensus in the city.

But for you?

You have always found Scarecrow particularly unnerving.

Sure, the Joker has his clown thing going on but…

When you were a kid, during the fall, the town over from your own would host a Halloween festival. You could come down and pick pumpkins straight from the patches, take hay rides, drink apple cider, gorge on candy apples, and roam their corn maze.

At the shy age of seven, you ended up getting lost in the corn maze. Separated from your parents, from any other parents or remotely responsible figure, you wandered for some time, crying, terrified, thinking, in typical seven-year-old fashion, that you would be lost forever as the sun set, plunging you into darkness.

You remember accidentally stumbling into a Scarecrow, just a decoration for the maze, but it had seemed so lifelike with its hay-stuffed limbs and mean face scowling down on you.

That would be your boogeyman for a long while.

Eventually, the fear faded and you forgot about it.

Moving to Gotham gave it a little more life.

But it’s never been an issue.

Still isn’t. Not technically.

After all, you think, perched on your couch, anxiously watching the news, it’s not you currently barricaded in the water treatment plant with Scarecrow and a new batch of fear toxin, fighting to make sure he doesn’t release it into Gotham’s waters.

No, it’s Tim. The others.

But the fight is over. Cameras showing police officers with gas masks emerging from the warehouse with Scarecrow tucked between them, hands cuffed. His scarecrow mask is creepy as ever, scowl etched permanently in the rough material of the mask.

“Still no word on whether Scarecrow was able to contaminate Gotham’s water supply but we do see the few workers he had hostage are now being escorted out. Little is known about this new strand of fear toxin but tips to the GCPD say that it is able to be dispersed either as a liquid or a gas. Previously, the toxin was dispersed only as a gas, but it seems Scarecrow has upgraded to another venture of chaos.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh, eyes intent on the flatscreen. Trying to pick them out in the background. But Bruce does his best to keep Batman and the others out of media eye. At least here in Gotham. When it comes to the Justice League and the Titans, they have little choice. They’re officially sanctioned teams by the UN. Batman can’t be an urban legend there. None of them can.

Pictures here are blurry, though. Nothing more than grainy, shadow figures in the night. No stopping for interviews, no stepping into the light.

Outside? Well, you’ve seen literal Getty Image photos of Batman at a UN hearing with Wonder Woman and Superman, looking none too pleased about it all.

You’re not going to find them, is what you’re saying. But you try anyway. Amidst the sea of police cars, blue and red lights flashing in the night, reporters perched several feet away, debriefing their audiences.

Just another night in Gotham.

But not for you.

Your fingers itch to grab your phone. Tim assured you it would be fine as he unlocked the hidden room in your walk-in closet, the room reinforced by multiple layers of lead (Bruce insisted; Tim, annoyed, relented) and only accessible by fingerprint and retinal scans from him and you, as it is the room that holds his Red Robin gear, private servers, and other confidential items. The room you could hide away in if enemies ever managed to breach your stiff security protocols (installed and programmed by Tim this time) and the thick walls and bulletproof, bomb-proof, and heat vision proof windows of the apartment.

You’re safe as can be.

You don’t think the same can be said for Tim.

Even if he told you he would be fine. That Bruce and Damian are constantly mixing antidotes to the new strands of fear toxin and Joker venom that pop up. That Duke and Steph, both of whom have slowed in their vigilante duties like he has, are coming back on for this one. In addition to Cass and Bruce and Damian and Kate and more. The Birds were on standby, too.

You can’t help but worry anyway.

Just a feeling. A bad, bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The phone call you get in the next minute affirms it.

Caught up just as Scarecrow unleashed the toxin… Had given his own mask to another worker trapped there… Didn’t yet have an antidote… Only received one a few minutes later… in very fragile condition…

Your name jars you from the cold, petrifying fear inside you.

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, Alf,” you mumble, standing and shutting off the TV. Your hands shake as you do it. You feel jittery and restless. “I’ll leave now, I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to get to the manor, though, I’m sure traffic is just crazy right now —”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But —”

“Master Tim has insisted on returning to you. Miss Stephanie agreed and so, it is next to impossible to get them to change their minds.”

“Right,” you say, sitting back down, flexing your fingers, which have gone cold, despite the apartment being well-heated for December in Gotham. A little voice like Tim’s matter-of-factly says, You’re stressed. Blood doesn’t flow as well to the hands and extremities because of it.

You try to regroup. “Are the others okay, then?”

“They all had their masks, so yes, they’re alright. A few scrapes and bruises but nothing we aren’t used to. Master Tim and Miss Stephanie are on their way now and I imagine you’d like to prepare for his arrival.”

“Right, right, yeah, thanks, Alfred.”

“I should thank you for taking care of him. There is a reason he wants to be with you there rather than with us. It is most likely self-explanatory, but it should still be said.”

Of course.

After so many years, he is your home. The harbor to your tempest. And it is the same for him.

“Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate that.”

“Of course.”

You bid your goodbyes and hurry to prepare for their arrival.

A hot meal sounds in order but you don’t think he’ll be up for it immediately, so you grab a pack of crackers. You ensure you have water, as well as some Sprite. You don’t know if he showered there, he probably didn’t, so you grab a fresh change of clothes for him, leaving it on the counter in the bathroom and grabbing him a new towel, too.

You go back to the living room to turn the TV back on, changing it to Ice Age, then lighting a candle you like to turn on every now and then, lavender and vanilla scented. Something familiar, something to ease him. You don’t know if it’ll work but you have to try.

After that, it is simply a waiting game.

You keep a close eye on your phone, where you get notifications from your security system.

Fifteen minutes later, you get an alert — not about movement on the balcony, but at the front door, camera feed showing you Tim and Steph’s figures in heavy thick coats — appropriate for the weather and to hide their suits, since their usual masks are gone. You guess he wasn’t in good enough condition to grapple with her. The thought makes your heart clench. Dismissing the message, you hurry over to open the door.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetie, you’re home now,” she’s murmuring to him, voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard.

She glances up at you as the door opens, shooting you a sad smile, then nudging Tim gently.

Your throat tightens painfully as you see his face, paler than usual, eyes glassy, gaze far, far away from here.

“Timmy?”

His eyes shoot to you.

Then he’s moving, strength and vigor seemingly renewed at the sight of you, and his arms are wrapping around you, tight, like steel, painful, hurting, cutting off your breathing, but you don’t care, don’t say anything, you just hold him back, as tightly as you can.

The pain is just a reminder that he’s here, with you, once again. Like it should be.

Steph leaves silently, mouthing Thank you.

You mouth back Be safe.

She shoots you a thumbs-up, then slips out, door clicking closed behind her.

Tim is shaking, you realize, body trembling against yours.

“You’re okay,” you whisper and his hold tightens painfully again but you push through it. “We’re okay, honey. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

What must he have seen?

Fear. Jonathan Crane’s greatest motivation — to master fear itself and to push those boundaries by using his fear toxins on others.

Your greatest fears, convincing you that they have become reality.

For you?

Losing your family. Losing your friends. Losing Tim.

For him?

He has already lost so much.

Been through so much.

You can surmise that you must’ve been part of it. Of course. Of course.

“We’re okay,” you whisper again, squeezing him.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. You run your fingers through his hair, not caring about how sweaty it is, Gotham clinging to him even now. You hate it. Can’t he get a break? Can’t he be free of it for even a few hours?

But that’s why you’re here.

To help. To ease the burden. This monumental burden put on him when he was a mere fourteen-years-old.

You two stay there for a little while. You feel him toe off his boots at one point, which makes you smile.

He keeps his face in your neck, despite you knowing the angle must start to bother him. But the contact is what he needs so you’ll give it to him. Whatever he wants.

“Are you up to eat something?” you ask softly, fingers still running through his damp hair.

He shakes his head. You guessed as much.

“How about a shower?”

Quiet for a minute. You feel the rise and fall of his shoulders and the tickle of warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Then he nods.

It takes longer for him to let go. You don’t rush him. And even then, he doesn’t let you go far, holding onto your hand as you lead him into your shared bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom.

Large and ridiculously luxurious, it has a jacuzzi bathtub, a large walk-in shower with a rainfall shower head, two for the body in the wall, then one detachable head, and it’s controlled by a waterproof touchscreen. Definitely a step-up from the bathtub shower you two had at Rose Oaks.

You turn on the shower, making it hot, then turn to Tim, reaching for the coat.

Underneath it is his suit. Most likely, he and Steph rode here by motorcycle, then she put them both in coats for the walk up here. It’s a bit of a silly image, especially since his cape is longer than it, and you smile to yourself as you pull off the coat.

“What?” he asks quietly, voice raspy. The first time he’s spoken so far.

“You’re cute, that’s all,” you murmur, dropping the coat onto the floor, then reaching up to unsnap the cape.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you. By this point in your relationship, the intensity of his gaze, taking you in fully, no details missed by keen eyes, does not fluster you. It just warms you. You feel seen in the best of ways. Wanted. Loved.

You love him, too. So much more than you thought possible. Sometimes it feels like you might burst with it. You hope he knows that. You’ll show him.

You take care of the rest of his suit. Fingers finding hidden zippers, carefully unlatching his utility belt and setting it aside, slipping off his compression shirt and the rest of it.

By the time everything has been taken off, the bathroom is muggy with steam.

You step back but he grabs your wrist, saying your name, blue eyes pleading.

“Stay. Please.”

“I am,” you soothe. “Just let me get out of this, okay?”

You strip, too, much more quickly. He steps in and you follow him, gently guiding him underneath the stream of hot water. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, a little bit chilly from the sparse water touching you, but you ignore it.

Everything seems to fall away. Tim’s eyes slide shut, head tilting back, letting the water run over his face, thick chunks of dark hair sticking to his skin, the water washing away the terrors of the night. You sigh, hand slipping to his cheek, rubbing the skin there gently.

When he pulls his head away from the stream, you reach up to comb his hair away from his face, fingers stroking over his skin idly, tenderly. He leans forward, arms coming around your waist, pulling you into him.

You go easily, hands sliding over his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies, dropping his head against your chest this time, right over your heart.

When you think of the reason why, your throat squeezes.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers tracing odd circles on his back, running through his wet hair, gently detangling the knots that formed during his work tonight.

“I know,” he whispers. “I just…”

The fear toxin is effective in what it was conceived to do. Even for Tim, as analytical and logic-minded as he is. When you live this kind of life, the threat of loss is a real one. Janet Drake’s death was entirely accidental. Not for any rhyme or reason other than misfortune. Jack Drake’s, however, was intentional. The list goes on and it’s hardly limited to loss by death. There are so many things that can happen. Things that can happen to you. Either because of Tim Drake or because of Red Robin. Or both.

But you don’t care about that. You never have. The danger is real but what you would lose in that trade-off is not worth it.

It doesn’t help, you think. Not now. Not when he knows, vividly, how he may lose you, because saying that now is as good as saying you’re okay with dying and he doesn’t need that.

He just needs assurance that you’re here now. And you’ll give it to him.

“I love you so much. You know that?”

You feel his breath stutter, arms tightening, chest pressed so closely to yours you can feel the unsteady beat of his heart pounding against you, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips so hard it’ll probably leave bruises. But you don’t care.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur. “Not in a million years if I had a choice in it.”

A small sniffle. “That’s not physically possible. Unless you’re secretly Kryptonian.”

Your lips quirk. You reach for his shampoo, squeezing out a dollop, then smoothing it into his hair. He sinks further into you, letting out a small noise of pleasure.

“Not Kryptonian. Just human. And very dedicated to those I love.”

A sigh. “I know.”

“Whatever you saw tonight,” you murmur and he tenses sharply but you keep going, keep massaging shampoo into his hair, soapy bubbles spilling over your palm, “it wasn’t real. I’m here. We’re all here. And we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s quiet for a long while. Enough for you to rinse out the shampoo and rub in the conditioner.

You reach for his body wash. Your body wash, really. He hasn’t used his own in a long while.

His hand wraps around your wrist, though. Stopping you. He pulls back to look at you.

“Tim?”

His eyes are on your face. Soft. But still a little hard to read.

He turns you, switching your positions. You jump at the first douse of hot water but don’t fight it, allowing him to push you under the stream. You close your eyes to keep the water out. His hands come up to your face. Stroking your cheeks. Pushing your wet hair out of your face. You lean into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything.”

“More than anything,” you echo, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around you. Hugging you. Tightly but not painfully.

You think you might hear him whisper Thank you but above the sound of the shower, you aren’t sure.

Slowly, you get him cleaned up. He insists on returning the favor and you let him, even if you already showered earlier. It’s a small thing to ask, after all.

After, you step out and dry yourselves off. You help him into his clothes and he helps you into yours. Insistent on reciprocation. Wanting to do something for you. But also just wanting to be near you. Touch you. Helping you gives him assurances, you think, of your presence. The thought makes your heart ache.

His hair is wetter than you’d like it to be, so you grab a towel and lead him out into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and you stand between his legs, taking the towel to his hair, gently drying it.

Tim holds onto you all the while.

You comb through it afterward, gently taking out the tangles.

He has a distant look in his eyes when you finish, tossing the towel and comb to the side for now, not wanting to be too far from him.

“What are you thinking?” you prompt gently, sitting next to him, taking his hand in yours.

“That I think the last person who did that was my mom.”

You pause. “Was it… I’m sorry. I didn’t ask —”

“No,” he says, looking at you. “No, it was… it was nice.” His voice is small. A little embarrassed. A little bashful. Red stains his cheeks and you smile at the sight.

“I’ll do it anytime you want,” you promise. “In the meantime…”

You leave it hanging, for him to fill.

He sighs. “Let’s just go to bed?”

“Sure. Can I get you to drink some water first maybe?”

He acquiesces, drinking a glass of water, then sliding into bed. You clear the security system — with him peering over your shoulder, making certain for himself, too — then turn out the lights, curtains automatically drawing over the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Tim keeps you close underneath the covers, settling low, laying his head on your chest like he did in the shower. You press a kiss to his head, running your fingers through his hair, feeling sleep start to tug at your senses.

By the way he relaxes into the memory foam of the bed, you know it’s not far off from him, either.

You stay awake to make sure of it.

Feeling his body go lax, his breathing even out. Hoping, praying, his dreams are peaceful tonight. To whoever will listen. The universe, some higher being, you don’t know, you simply want to give him a break. A break from all of this.

It’s just a bad day. You know that. A bad day that stands out in a sea of so many good ones. But bad days for him, for you, are something so different from others’. Unforgiving trauma. Potential loss of life.

But honestly? If changing that meant leaving him… you wouldn’t change a thing.

God, you hope that as the time goes on, he’ll fully step back.

Until then, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces. To tend to the aftermath.

Always.

reblogs are appreciated!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine

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