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like-rain-or-confetti · 2 years

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Hi!!

I'm here again with another request :)

For the gotham villains hc: how would they be in a polyamorous (again :) srry but i'm obsessed), i mean how would they act? Something will change? Will they become more jealous? I hope its clear ':)

(Specifically the roman sionis x reader x joker bc its my favourite yk... *embarassed face*)

(Only if you are comfortable obv)

Thank you so much anyways, i LOVE your blog <333

Hello againnnn, you are very welcome ❤️ I'll be using the same examples as last time if that's okay? Please let me know if I've gotten something wrong with polyamory. I know very little details and this is just my interpretation of how the characters would manage it.

The Riddler: He really cannot handle you having feelings for someone else. Like his possessiveness, narcissism etc just won't allow it. It will definitely make him more competitive around Scarecrow and the mere sight of him makes Edward incredibly angry. He just can't shake the feeling Scarecrow is stealing you from him. That often sends him into spirals, was he just not enough for you? Did you not understand the genius he really is? He feels he has to prove himself and diminish your feelings to Jonathan as to which...Good luck with that Edward.

Scarecrow: Openly he doesn't show any upset. Whilst he might hold you at arms length somewhat, he simply can't give himself to you completely, worried that he'll lose you. Plus he knew what Edward was like. That kind of gave Jonathan pleasure. The knowledge that your feelings for both men would be ripping Edward apart from the inside. However, he tolerates your love for both men and if that makes you happy then so be it. Although he would only be able to handle that there is one other partner other than him. If you brought another into the situation then Jonathan would probably leave. Jonathan -as well as Edward- were neglected emotionally so naturally they do better with relationship that are monogamous and they have all the attention, not worrying that they give their all to someone, only for that person to leave or have favourites. Jonathan just won't do competition in that regard. He'll just leave.

Two-Face: Pretty okay with polyamory since there is technically two of him. So bringing Oswald into the picture didn't really bother him on that point. He just found Cobblepot annoying, personally. Like of all people it had to be him? Although deep down, both know that they can trust Oswald to keep you safe and happy. Just like he could count on Oswald to be a dick and act like he's better at him at everything and that Dent won't just kick him in the face one day.

Penguin: Personally finds it easier to run his business knowing you won't constantly be alone. After all, you have Two-Face too. Although sometimes it becomes like a weird custody battle. He'll phone Dent demanding to know you're alright and where you are. Or he'll decide to take time off so ditch Harvey and spend time with him. You have to remind the two at times that you also have a phone and they simply just have to phone or text if they're worried. Yes it did take pointing out the similarities to a bitter custody battle between who gets the kid on holidays and weekends for Oswald to tone it down. All three of you could admit that was a little weird of a dynamic to have. Yet sometimes he just couldn't help himself.

Black Mask: He knew what he was getting into when you two became official...BUT THE CLOWN? The most loving statement Roman could give the Joker is that sometimes he just wants to strangle him to death rather than slowly and brutally murder him. For Roman that's a big step! However all that goes out the window when you get upset or sadded because the Joker is off in his own little world and has, again, forgotten you exist. Over and over again, it's you chasing after him and Roman is tired for you. He's tried convincing you to leave the Joker. You haven't budged. It drives him nuts. Although there is a downside to this relationship with Roman. A deal he made with you showing he was really in it for himself. He allowed you to have relationships with others- the Joker- but in return he got to have his own fun. He claims to find it only fair. That surely if you could look elsewhere then so could he. It completely goes over his head that he's talking about hook ups, strippers and prostitutes. Whilst you're relationships we're actually consented to by all parties and long term. This wasn't the same thing as sleeping around. Yeah...need to work out some details but even if he fights you on it, he hasn't actually cheated on you. So his actions were very different from his words there. Plus his jealousy is through the roof any time you even

Joker: So he's the most chill of them all but the worst of them all. If he does love you, he certainly doesn't act like it most of the time as he seems to forget you every three minutes. It causes a lot of strain in the relationship between you two and often leaves you upset. Naturally you then run off to Roman and that puts heat between Roman and the Joker. Its honestly just a big mess. As for his view on sharing you with Roman, he doesn't care. He'll often make jokes about you liking the more rough types. Yes, including that way. Let's not sit and pretend the Joker has a filter. He's always happy to see you, he just forgets you exist with every move he makes. Does it help if I said he appreciates you?

#batman villains #batman #request #batman scenarios #the riddler #scarecrow #two face #penguin #black mask #the joker #edward nygma #jonathan crane #harvey dent #oswald cobblepot #roman sionis

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

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Hello dear! Can i request a Roman Sionis X Male!Reader where the reader is a metahuman with the ability of manipulating blood (aka a vampire) and tries to hide it from his lover until Roman finds out when Reader saves him from a mobster? Fluff please + Roman as proud as hell of his lover? Thanks in advance!

Life's Good | Roman Sionis x VampireMale!Reader

I am so sorry it took me so long to finally write this! I'm slowly catching up with the last few requests I've received before my break. I hope you're still interested in this and like what I've done with it (I admit, it got a little away from me because I was super invested in the scenario I came up with, so it is probably less fluffy than you may have wanted, sorry)!

summary; see above.

notes; CW // Blood-Drinking (mild Dub-Con for that at first); Gun Violence; Being Threatened; Murder (not graphic). Vampires; Kind of angsty?; Fluff; Aftercare (non-sexual, but you know, after feeding from someone).

Unlike most people would think you’ve actually been born this way. Your parents were vampires, conceiving you naturally, which of course meant you’d been born a metahuman. You’ve lived quite a normal life, despite the fact that instead of eating, drinking and sleeping like other humans would, you only slept rarely, only ate people food when you had to fit in, and otherwise you fed from humans, drinking their blood. You’d never killed anyone with it, though. Enough people who wanted you to feed from them existed, establishments were you could find them were all around the world. It was a pretty good life.

Still, you usually opted to keep it secret, unsure as to how people might react. While the general opinion of vampires has changed in all these centuries, standing in front of one was still a wholly different thing for most. You understood and respected that.

So when you met Roman – his scent so enticing, you had trouble keeping your fangs in – you stood in front of the question once again. Should you tell him?

Eventually, you decided to go with the flow and see where it’d take you. You didn’t immediately want to ruin your chances with him before you’ve actually gotten to know him at all.

At first it was a casual relationship anyway, no need to tell him your big secret then. But as time went on, your relationship became more serious. You stayed over at his loft more frequently, forced to eat his food and drink his beverages, so as not to let him suspect anything. It didn’t hurt you or anything, it was just unnecessary and you’d never get really used to, well, actual food and such. All the different textures and tastes and what you could do with what to change it. It was fascinating, but not exactly your favourite thing.

Of course, one fateful day it had all come to a head.

You had just admitted to yourself that you loved Roman a couple of weeks ago, not daring to say anything to him, as you didn’t fancy ruining what you two had with those three simple, yet powerful words.

Now though, you regretted that decision more than ever, terrified that maybe you would never be able to tell him how you felt.

It all happened so fast, too. One moment, you and Roman were out on the streets, way into the evening, having just had dinner at an expensive restaurant he’d invited you to; and you were laughing, talking about something – you couldn’t remember what – when you turned into an alleyway. In the next moment, a rival mob boss shot at the two of you. Warning shots, missing you both on purpose.

“What the fuck?!” Roman exclaimed, livid, but you could smell the underlying anxiety change his usual scent from when he was enraged. You hated it.

The gang leader – whatwashisface, you could never keep up – stood now in front of you two, having Roman at gunpoint. His men had surrounded you two, pointing their guns at both of you.

“What do you want?” Sionis spat at the other mob boss, glaring at him with a piercing, wild look in his eyes.

You stayed silent, your hands raised out of instinct. The bullets wouldn’t be able to kill you, unless they were specifically made for it, but that was so unlikely, you weren’t overly worried. You were concerned about Roman, though, anxious that this might have been it.

“Set an example, that’s what. You can’t scare us into submission. You can’t control us. You really think getting a hold of the East End would give you enough power to do that? Fuck you, I say!” the leader yelled.

“Well, fucking go on then if you’re really so tough! Or are you only bark and no bite? Cowardly ambushing me in private like that, I’m inclined to believe you are nothing but a talker. You can’t scare me either, you fuck.” You really wished Roman would shut up for once, lest he’d really get himself killed this time.

Your mind was racing with all possible outcomes this situation could bring. Only one was sure to get Roman out alive; and boy were you glad you’ve fed from someone yesterday.

Even though you had never killed anyone and didn’t desire to do so, you were ready to do anything for Roman, no matter what. You didn’t care that he’d know then, know that you were a freak of nature, as some hateful people liked to call people like you. You didn’t care that you’d take lives. They weren’t innocent, dared to threaten your love and you just couldn’t see past that.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, focusing your abilities into play and onto every single man of this rival gang. It was rare for you to use any of your powers that didn’t exist and activate naturally, like your strength. Your parents had taught you to only use them for self defence and this situation was practically screaming for it.

Snapping your eyes back open, now glowing red, all of the men around you gasped and crumbled, letting their weapons clatter to the ground, grasping at their throats, or chest, trying so hard to save themselves. Moments later, they were all just lifeless bodies, lying around Roman and you, as if you were some victorious kings. And in a way, you were exactly that, weren’t you? Roman was soon to be the King of Gotham after all.

All too suddenly, all the strength left your body, your legs giving out. Roman, despite his apparent shock, caught you, steadied you. Gently, he lowered you to the ground, keeping his arms tightly wound around you.

It had taken a lot more out of you than you had anticipated. You desperately needed to feed.

“Y/N? Baby, hey, look at me,” Roman spoke softly, something only reserved for you, you had come to realise.

With half-lidded eyes, you looked up at him, a strained sound passing your lips. “You okay?” you asked, still unsure if everything had truly worked out the way you thought it would.

He scoffed, “Yes, quit worrying about me. Are you okay? What the fuck was that anyway?”

“Just gotta eat,” you murmured, slurring your words heavily, “Sorry about the- that. I’ll explain later.”

“What do you mean you have to eat? Baby, I can’t follow you. I hope you realise that I’m missing some of the fucking context here,” he chuckled, which bordered on sounding hysterical.

“Blood. Vampire. Now, Roman, or else- fuck. Won’t make it.” Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your voice just barely above a whisper anymore. Fuck, you hoped he understood. Even more so, you hoped he was okay with it and that maybe he liked you enough to save your life. You didn’t exactly fancy feeding from him, when he was basically pressured into it. But he had a choice, you told yourself.

When you were slowly lifted up a bit and felt skin against your lips, you forced all your last strength to open your mouth – your fangs had automatically unsheathed when you unleashed your powers – and bite down.

The first taste of Roman was as intoxicating and overwhelming as you had always fantasised it would be. A shaky moan came out of him when you started sucking in earnest. Pretty quickly, you regained more and more strength, feeling increasingly less dead. You cupped the other side of Roman’s neck with your hand and pulled him further in. Shit, you couldn’t possibly get enough.

After a few, long moments, you felt Roman push against you, as well as pulling at your clothes, calling your name. Reluctantly, and almost as if you were just waking up from a trance, you let up and licked up the excess blood on his neck, simultaneously licking his wounds closed.

Roman was breathing heavily, and you were still feeling out of it, as you two just kneeled in this alley, holding each other, amidst the dead bodies of Sionis’ former rivals. It was bizarre.

“I think we should go home,” Roman said eventually, his voice sounded so soft, as if he was barely present in the real world.

You nodded and got up, helping Roman to do the same. He was swaying a little and this time you were the one who steadied him. Drinking someone’s blood always took a toll on both parties and you knew you had taken more from him than you usually dared to do with anyone. It made you feel guilty. You had to make it up to him later – if he still wanted you then – that was for sure.

When you had arrived at Roman’s loft, you helped him lie down on his chaise longue, legs propped up on one of his many pillows, to help his blood flow to where it was most needed. Then you went over to the kitchen to get him a glass of orange juice and an energy bar.

Roman nodded in thanks when you pressed either item in his hands, standing above him. You felt so uncomfortable, didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or if you were even supposed to still be here. He’s been so unusually quiet the entire time, albeit it was most likely due to shock and blood loss.

“So, you’re a vampire.” Roman stated, looking at you, and you hated that you couldn’t place his expression into any kind of category. You just nodded in answer. “Right. And why exactly didn’t I know?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times, looking for the right words. “I was afraid of losing you over it,” you settled on telling the truth eventually.

Again, Roman only nodded; his expression was still so indecipherable, but then a certain shine caught in his eyes. You’ve only witnessed it a couple of times thus far.

“You killed for me,” he practically gasped. “Have you killed before? Being a vampire and all, I’d presume you have.”

You shook your head, “No, that was the first time, actually.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Then, in an instant, his expression morphed into something prideful, a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes brighter than any stars you’ve seen in the sky above – it was breathtaking. “You killed for me,” he repeated, sitting upright, throwing his legs over the side of the chaise longue, planting his feet on the ground.

“Y-yeah, I did,” you replied, a weak chuckle leaving you. You still couldn’t quite believe that you’ve done it, especially when you spared a thought on how it made you feel – powerful, so far above others, good.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Fuck, you’re a dream come true, my little prince! You’re so special. A vampire! And you killed for me, because-“ He couldn’t finish it, realisation dawning on him, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his smile slowly vanished.

“Because I love you, yes. I couldn’t lose you over some stupid mob boss who thought he could ambush you like that.”

Roman licked his lips and nodded, placed the empty glass and half eaten energy bar on the table in front of him, and got up.

“I’m proud of you,” he then said, taking you by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“For not letting your fears get in your way. You were afraid of losing me for being a vampire, but you were probably even more terrified of losing me to my mortality. And you pushed through it. Almost fucking killed yourself, only to save me. I’m proud of you for doing that. I’m grateful, too, naturally.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Roman,” you snickered.

Instead of continuing the conversation, Roman pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Putting your arms around his shoulders, you kissed him back, hoping to show him just how grateful you were with that single kiss.

Then you remembered your guilt from before and broke it. Roman glared at you for a moment. “What?”

“You never gave your consent, I- I fed from you and you never-“

“I did. By offering myself to you. I had a choice, you know? So quit it. You’re not guilty of anything, my boy. And just so you know, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever feed from anyone else again, ‘kay?” He was smirking, but his eyes had an edge to them, which let you know that he was serious about his threat.

Giving a short laugh, you nodded and kissed him again. Life really was good.

#murder tw #vampire #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #reader fic #reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis fanfiction #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #mlm fanfic #mlm fiction

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redspaceace-writes · 5 years

Text

For You - (Roman Sionis x Reader)

Request: I was just wondering if I could request a Roman Sionis!!!! Maybe where the reader is related to Harley!plz

Author's Note: Thank you for the request @starwarsprequelfangirl! I hope you enjoy! This one also goes out to @darling-i-read-it, the queen of Ewan fics. If you, like me, are absolutely obsessed with any of his characters, stop by her blog and read the good stuff! Y/N/N means your nickname.

Warnings: Allusions to smut

Word Count: 1067

Not my GIF! Credit goes to the owner.

The night club, Black Mask, reeks of alcohol and sweat. The sounds of chatter and laughter fill the area. You are wearing a long, strapless dress that drags slightly behind you as you walk through the club. Your husband, Roman Sionis, has yet to leave your side, his right arm snug around your waist. He is wearing a blue suit with black stripes and tinted glasses accessorize his face. While you mingle with the patrons, you sip a drink held in your right hand. Roman’s right-hand man Victor Zsasz strolls over to you both. He nods at you then moves to Roman’s left side to whisper in his ear.

“Darling, I’ve got some business to attend to,” Roman says. “I won’t be gone long. Enjoy yourself, love.” He kisses your left cheek and slides the hand around your waist down to lightly smack your ass. You watch them walk to the stage and meet with another man, then disappear from your view. Searching for an empty booth, you find one and take a seat. You rest your head against the wall behind you and close your eyes.

A loud crack and scream pierce your ears. You are immediately on alert and leave the comfy seat looking for the commotion. Your eyes are drawn to a small crowd of women surrounding someone. Getting closer, you see a man you recognize as Roman’s driver. You hear a cackle distinctly belonging to a female. You’ve heard that laugh before.

“Harley?” you ask incredulously. Hearing her name, she turns to look at you. A wide grin breaks out across her face. She runs to you and gives you the biggest hug you’ve had in a long time.

“Y/N!” Harley exclaims. “I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” You and Harley are cousins. You used to be really close as kids. The last time you heard from her, she had just gotten a job at Arkham Asylum. Then she just disappeared. You didn’t know where she’d gone. Around that time, you met Roman. He was there to comfort you during your distraught state without Harley. From that night you both became inseparable. Now here you are years later married to the man.

“Yeah, me too,” you say. “Let’s go to the bar and get some drinks.” Harley nods eagerly. You guide her through the sea of people, each individual parting to let you pass. You miss her look of surprise as she follows you. You sit beside each other and order your drinks. When the bartender leaves, Harley turns to you, shock still on her face.

“Y/N/N, how did you get those people to move aside like that?” she asks, perplexed. You lift your left hand to show off both your rings. She gasps excitedly and grabs your hand to admire the rings.

“Y/N/N! You’re married? Congrats!” Harley shouts. “Who’s the lucky guy?” You debate if you should answer the question honestly. Should you tell her your husband is the notorious crime boss Roman Sionis? He’s avidly expressed his distaste for Harley, even labeling her as an enemy. You decide it’s best not to tell her. At the moment, the bartender has served your beverages.

“Oh, he’s just some guy I met at a club,” you mumble, picking up your alcohol, taking a swig.

“Oh, c’mon! Give me some details!” she groans. “What’s he like? What does he do?” Before you can deflect her questions, you feel hands on your shoulders. You know immediately who it is and panic internally.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Roman declares, announcing his presence. “Hello, Harleen. It’s been a while.” Harley grins mockingly.

“Rommie! It’s so good to see you,” she exclaims. “How’s life been treatin’ you?” Roman chuckles at her attempt to be civil.

“Life’s great, actually,” Roman says smugly. “I got married to this Goddess after you abandoned her for your psychotic boyfriend.” You were mid-sip when he spoke those words. You choked, spitting and coughing all over the counter. Roman brought one of his hands down to rub your back. The pompous bastard. You shot up from your seat and shrugged off Roman’s hands. You grabbed Harley’s arm and dragged her to the Women’s restroom. Upon entering the facilities, you checked to make sure no one else was in there before locking the door. You sighed heavily before facing Harley.

“Y/N, you’re married to Roman fucking Sionis?” she asks, looking betrayed. “He hates my guts, he wants me dead! How could you possibly be with a man like him?” You fluttered your eyelids in disbelief.

“Harley, you left me. The day you started working at that god-forsaken asylum, I stopped existing. I called you every day in hopes of just being able to hear your voice…” you pause. “Roman was there when you weren’t. You ran off with the Joker. You cast me aside due to your obsession with him. Roman has shown me nothing but kindness and love. I know how he feels about you. He’s told me all about the shit you’ve put him through. Look, I love you-”

“No! I don’t wanna hear it,” she shouts. “I’m sorry for ghostin’ you like I did, but I’m back now. And I’m tellin’ you, Roman is nothing but bad news.” You shush her before she can continue.

“If you’re going to continue to insult the man I love, then you can leave,” you say sternly. “It was nice to see you again.” You stare at Harley and see tears form in her eyes. She stomps towards the door, unlocks it, and vanishes from sight. You exit the bathroom to find Roman standing there. He reaches out to touch you, but you swat his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl. “You just had to stroke your ego, didn’t you? She’s my family and I haven’t seen her in a long time so your first instinct is to push her away from me?” Roman sighs.

“Love, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes. He puts his hand under your chin, wanting you to look at him. “Let me make it up to you.” Roman knows you can’t stay mad at him for long or resist his charm. He captures your lips with his before grasping your hand and leading you upstairs, taking you to bed.

------------------

Requests are open! Check out who I write for and feel free to ask for anyone not on the list!

Posted: February 19, 2020

#birds of prey #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #harley quinn #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey imagine #roman sionis imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor imagine

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Next of Kin (Prologue)

Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz x child!reader

Birds of Prey x Sionis-Zsasz!reader

warnings: blood/gore, guns, knives, death mention, alcohol

a/n: alright im BEGGING for hype on this one

prompt: y/n seeks revenge for the death of their adoptive fathers, roman and victor. not only do they have to take over the family business, they seek revenge. y/n swears to kill harley quinn and the so-called “birds of prey,” they’re going to regret what they’ve done to y/n’s family

part 1 part 2

You were just another one of the forgotten orphans that flooded Gotham City. It was hard to find a home here, but after years of being alone, someone finally took notice to you and genuinely thought you’d be a perfect addition to their life: Roman Sionis and his lover, Victor Zsasz.

Roman didn’t question his decision for a moment, he knew you were a perfect fit for them. This was the family he’d been dreaming of! You couldn’t have been more happy to finally feel like you belonged somewhere, which you and Roman seemingly had in common. His family wasn’t very sweet to him, but he wouldn’t make the same mistakes as his parents.

Roman became “Dad,” Victor became “Papa Vic,” and you became the child of a crime lord and a hitman. It was truly spectacular getting in on what you only referred to as “the family business.” You fit right in and felt an overwhelming sense of love and fulfillment.

“Dad, could I have two hundred bucks? I’m taking the day to treat myself.” You asked Roman with a tilt of your head and batted your eyes while you waited for his response.

“Of course, my dear. In fact, take five hundred. And whatever car you’d like.” He pulled five bills from his wallet and handed them over to you. “Stay out as late as you want, call Vic if you have any problems, and be sure to be armed, got it?” Roman went down the list of provisions.

“I got it,” you smiled at him, something that brought light into his life, “love you, Dad.” You gave him a kiss on the forehead and rushed off to do what you pleased, and things like this happened for a long time. You were spoiled silly, loved to bits, overprotected, and taught the ways of your family.

“Y/N, happy birthday.” Zsasz handed you a small box that was just barely decorated. It made Roman sick to look at, it was just bland.

“Thank you, Papa Vic.” You quickly opened the bleake box to find a special knife inside, one made with you in mind. This was your first birthday with your new family, so this was a gift you’d remember for the rest of your life. “I love it!” You pounced over to give him a hug and he held on tight, he would’ve never let go if he could have. Even Roman joined in on the hug, making you feel safe and sound with your two wonderful dads.

Let us not forget about the Black Mask Club, which you attended nightly to get a feel of the place. There was nothing like getting all dressed up and wandering the busy room to conduct your will. Nobody dared to mess with you, you were the child of two maniacs. But let’s face it, you were starting to strike fear into other’s hearts yourself.

Zsasz had given you a crash course in torture, knives were the perfect way to go. The first time you saw him carve a face off, you puked. The second time? Not so bad. It wasn’t your favorite method, but now you know.

I have to mention the likes of Harley Quinn here, because she thought you were just the perfect thing when you two where introduced. You didn’t see a problem with her in the slightest.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing to ever exist! You and me are going to have so much fun, I can be your Auntie Harley!” She told you with the margarita swaying back and forth in her hand.

“Excuse us, Harley, we have to be getting somewhere else, now.” Roman shuffled you away before warning you about how awful Harley actually was. You didn’t understand exactly what the problem was, but you didn’t have to agree with Dad on everything. That was one of the lovely parts of growing up.

The men that Roman had employed were commanded to respect you, listen to what you had to say. Zsasz and him were amazed with all that you could do before you met them. After the knowledge and skills they had shared with you? You were unstoppable.

To the very day they died, you made them oh, so proud. And you swore that you’d continue to do just that until your very last breath, no matter what you may have to face on your own.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Face

Roman Sionis x reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: drinking

Author’s Note: I have requests still and eventually I’ll answer the ones growing in my inbox but this is my blog sooooo

but hes my BRAND lets not act like I’m not always gonna be romans girl

Genre: fluff

(not my gif)

Roman and you had been together a long time before you even knew that Harley Quinn existed. You had watched him grow from the ground up (well as close to the ground as his rich ass could get) and you had known that he could rule Gotham one day. You were as close as anyone could ever get. You had been together together since the day he opened up the club and neither of you had looked back.

You put your hair up and popped your lipstick rimmed lips in the mirror. The club had opened up for another night and you knew that something was going to happen tonight. You could feel it in the air.

You walked into the club, your heels hitting the ground with no noise over the music. You took the drink that the man at the door handed you (your usual that they had ready for you every night) and walked over where you knew Roman would be at the start of the night.

He was getting ready to get the entertainment ready but people had to flow in for him to do that so he was just waiting, nursing a martini he only ever drank half of. You stood beside him, looking at the empty stage as the start of the music began to play. It was just the speaker music for now but it lasted a while and no one really minded that much.

“You think that I’m going to have to deal with-”

“Quinn will probably be here tonight yeah. You give her such a hard time.”

“She’s a bitch.”

“She’s Jokers girl.”

“And you’re mine and you-” he pointed a gloved hand at you, finally turning away from the stage to look at you “are my girl.”

“I’m a bitch.” “Only when you’re drunk.” “No, all the time Roman I don’t know how you missed th-”

“Ah! Look, our guests of honor have arrived, let me go greet them,” he exaggerated, pointing over at the people entering the club. You assumed they were business people but you stayed out of the area for the most part during the night. It wasn’t until the morning that you looked at the things Roman had done the night before. You vetted it, did that whole thing while he killed someone or another at your whim. When you found an inconsistency you told him and he dealt with it.

You watched as your Roman walked across the room and started greeting the men. You rolled your eyes and made a gesture at one of the workers to get the live music started while you walked around the place.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that you caught sight of Harley Quinn coming in, immediately ordering a drink and moping at the bar. She didn’t look great but you knew if she fucked around that Roman wasn’t in a forgiving mood so you walked over and sat beside her. She gave you a strange confused look.

“What is Romy's girl doing over here?” she asked.

“First off, my name is Y/N. Second off I wanted to give you a heads up that Roman isn’t in a good mood so if you’re going to do anything leave before you do it.” She gave you a smile, a woman solidarity smile and you waved your hand, getting another one of her drinks taken to her.

“Thanks for the heads up. Y/N,” she said, pointing her new glass at you. You nodded and got off the bar stool before walking back over to Roman who was wrapping up some chats about business.

“Quinn won’t be a problem tonight.” He looked up at you, a grand smile on his face. He stood up, giving the men a hand shake and nod as he took you by the small of your back and walked you further into the crowd of dancing drunk people.

“You know how powerful you look baby?” he muttered, his finger trailing down your cheek. You raised an eyebrow and grabbed his suit jacket with your hands.

“Me? Look at you and your eyeliner. It’s hot.” He laughed and kissed you gently. As the two only semi sober people in the crowd that night you still felt like you were on top of the world. Like you and Roman could stomp anyone at your feet, no matter the cost.

“You’re just saying that because you're my wife.”

“I say that because everyone says that. I mean you look at Quinn and Joker and all the face paint. All you need it…” you trailed off and raised your chin, trailing to his eyelids and hovering above them and then your hand hovering over his face. You smiled. “Is this damn face.”

He grabbed your hand in the hair quickly and moved it out of his face just enough to look you in the eyes.

“Don’t make me kiss you.”

“Fuck, will you please?”

Ewan: @daphne-fandom-writing, @satanslov3r @records-and-stardust @broodybats @starwarsprequelfangirl @ah-callie @rai-strangebr @whyisgmora @fandxmnerd @ewanfuckingmcgregor @peterpstuff @stardancerluv

Roman: @onebatch--twobatch @21stcenturywitchcraft

#roman sionis x reader #roman sionis imagines

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konako · 4 years

Note

You know, I was wondering how fast Renee went from "She works for Sionis!" to "holy fuckballs Helena Bertinelli". Then it hit me - she realizes *when Helena takes her hood off* and she gets a good look at her. So. Does Helena look like her mother a lot? Her father? What does it do to her, to see the dead parent stare back each time she looks in the mirror?

Oh, shit, anon. It’s so bright out and you hit me with this.

WHERE DO I BEGIN—

Do you think Helena has any photos of her parents, or any of her family?

They were the (in)famous family, so they probably appeared in newspapers, surveillance shots and yes... obituaries.

Doe Helena have access to that, hidden away in Sicily? Did the men that took her away care to bring her something to remind her of her family? Do they have anything with the Bertinelli faces around? If they don’t, is it a precaution measure, so no to be discovered by whoever is still hunting them down? An if they do, does Helena spend time looking at them? Does she see herself in her parents features, or in her brother’s?

She’s still so young. Her face reminds her of her own, for now. Maybe not even that. Maybe she looks in the mirror and doesn’t see Helena Bertinelli anymore, for the Bertinellis are long gone. Maybe she struggles to see her old self; the rich, spoiled mafia princess with the happy life and living parents. Maybe she only sees whatever is left of that day. A shell of a girl with a broken last name, desperately wanting to be something else.

Eventually, she sees Huntress. And that’s all that she cares to see. The woman, hardened and sharpened into a deadly weapon, that lives only to kill those responsible for her tragedy.

But then Huntress strips down in her hotel room. She hangs the heavy black coat neatly in the closet, she puts down and stores her weapons, and stares in the mirror again; light tank top, no make-up, sweatpants, messy hair — Huntress doesn’t look like that. Huntress is resting now, so who is this?

She tries to quiet the thoughts. She stares at her odd, clean reflection, and repeats, until it sounds properly like her, “They call me Huntress”

But it’s hard to see Huntress reflected, when it’s a different woman standing there. It’s hard to hear her voice, faking temporary strength, when she says that lie. No one calls her Huntress. No one survives to pass the name forward. Huntress kills them, as Huntress was born to do, so Huntress doesn’t live long enough to exist.

Still, she practices it. She’s chosen the name carefully, and it’s the last thing many men will hear, so she tries to get it right.

“They call me Huntress”, and it doesn’t sound right. It sounds like Helena, because it’s Helena saying it. “They call me Huntress”, and it’s wrong again.

It’s only when she laughs that sorry laugh at her own stupid misery, that she sees someone else reflected in her silliness.

Standing before her is her mother, framed in the same dark, gentle waves of her hair. Her father is hidden somewhere in her brown eyes, in the shadow of her furrowed brow. Her brother is there, too, sharing her shy smile, when her lips curve upwards gently, even when she’s not aware of it.

They’re there. They haven’t left.

They stare back at her, through the mirror, wearing her reflection. They watch her back, as she studies the features she thought she’d never have. They would laugh at her, now, if they could make a sound through the glass. They would find her practiced greeting ridiculous.

“No one call you Huntress, dear,” her mother would say, leaning into her dark waves, in the kind voice Helena can no longer remember. “How did you even come up with that name?” her father would study her with the brown eyes, half-amused, half-confused, as he often was. Finally, her brother would flash that eternally childlike bright grin of his, with her own mouth, “Well, I think that’s badass!”

They’re there. They’re hidden in her, somewhere. They come out to stare back at her, when Huntress is stored away.

She thanks them. Not with words — She’s been talking to herself a lot, so she decides to be quiet for now. She curves her brother’s lips into a shy, self-conscious smile; she looks into her father’s confused eyes and nods her gratitude, as she mother’s waves say forward in the movement.

When Huntress rests, and the nights are dark, lonely and quiet, she welcomes their shared reflection. She doesn’t feel so alone, as she gazes into the Bertinelli left in front of her. Helena stands, raw and unarmored, before the mirror and she’s thankful that they’re there.

Until, she’s not.

When the nights are even darker, quieter and more lonely, she doesn’t welcome them. They’re not really there, after all. Huntress is stored away, and only Helena stands, silly and vulnerable, searching for ghostly faces in her own. They’re not there. They never were. Those are her eyes, her hair, her smile. That’s Helena, not them. There’s nothing more of them, if not their bloodline, their family name. It’s genetics, it’s not company.

It’s in those nights, that she seeks escape. When she wants to run from that helpless state of unwanted feelings, she stores herself away in Huntress.

It’s better to be Huntress. Deadly, dangerous, protected, armored. Huntress is safe. Huntress doesn’t dwell uselessly, alone, in front of a mirror, wishing for a family that she doesn’t have anymore. Huntress doesn’t have their features. Her hair is different, pushed away from her face; her eyes are covered in a deeper frown, darkened by the black around them; and her smile is not shy anymore. They’re not there, with her, in her.

Huntress doesn’t have a family to mourn — she avenges them, but it’s pure rage, it’s not pointless longing. Huntress covers her hair with a hood, covers her eyes with paint and cover her smile with bloodlust, so they are stored away, too.

At least, she hopes they are. She doesn’t look in the mirror, to really make sure. She doesn’t want to see them escaping through Huntress, too. She tries her hardest, not to let them show. Not to smile, not to lose her frown, not to let her hair fall on her face.

She doesn’t look in the mirror. It’s the only way to make sure she doesn’t fall back to that unpredictable state. She doesn’t know what she’ll see, truly. She doesn’t know if it’s Huntress there, if it’s Helena alone, or if it’s the Bertinelli in her. Not looking is the only way to make sure she won’t see anything. No sadness, no love, no longing, no disgust.

So Huntress is a safe place, where she’s comfortably alone. Protected by herself, from herself and from those who wear her features from time to time.

It’s better, to be Huntress. Helena knows pain, Huntress deals in anger. So, Huntress is better.

But no one calls her Huntress.

#Anonymous #huntress #helena bertinelli

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cinebration · 5 years

Text

Choose Where (Victor Zsasz x Reader) [Part 2]

So apparently more of this story needed to be written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. More parts to come if y’all want.

Tagged: @im-just-one-of-the-avengers; let me know if you’d like me not to tag you for future parts.

Warnings: cutting, mutilation, language

Turns out you inherited your father’s penchant for pissing people off. The wrong people.

Apparently, the same people, what with Roman screaming into your face. He filled your vision, red-faced, veins and tendons leaping against his skin. Spittle flew onto your face as he shouted.

“That’s my fucking money!” He tore through his hair, turning away from you, looking to Zsasz for support. “I can’t believe you gave it to Bruce Wayne of all people!”

“Wayne Industries,” you corrected.

His hand smacked across your face. Stars burst in your vision, heat flaring through your cheek. Gritting your teeth, you stared back at him. The sting of the slap had you fighting the watering of your eyes.

“Same fucking thing,” he snarled. “Of all the assholes in the city—”

“It was a sound investment.”

He pivoted. “Zsasz, do you hear this? Maybe I should have let you cut her tongue out.”

It didn’t surprise you that Zsasz had told Roman the threat he had given you at your first encounter, not with how close the two of them were. But the reminder of that threat sent a shock of dread through you. If Roman ordered, there was nothing to stop Zsasz from following through.

“You don’t make investments for me. I hired you to be a fucking bookkeeper—”

“Accountant.”

Another slap. Copper blossomed on your tongue, your lip burning.

“Not another fucking word,” Roman hissed. Raking another hand through his hair, he stepped back, frowned as he glared at you. “I think it’s time you lose your face. It’s ruined anyway with that.” He flapped a hand at your still-puckered scar. “Deal with it, Zsasz.”

Zsasz’s gaze shifted to you. The usual mischief and glee in his eyes were missing, replaced with something more guarded.

“If you’d actually listened to me, Sionis,” you said, eyeing Zsasz as he slowly approached, “you’d know that I turned a 135-percent profit from that investment—”

“I swear to God—”

“—and I bought you a piece of the Wayne Industries board with it. You’ll be fed information and even have someone representing your interests.”

Zsasz stopped in front of you, blocking Roman from view. His hand curled around your bicep, gripping hard enough to leave an impression. You stared into his hard eyes. That he wasn’t grinning gave you hope even as he pulled the knife from his pocket.

“Wait, Zsasz.” Roman asked from behind Zsasz’s back, “What kind of representation?”

You leaned forward into what little personal space Zsasz retained, peering over his shoulder. His head turned slightly, enough for his breath to ghost over your cheek.

“Wayne Industries controls key parts of the city,” you answered too quickly for your liking. “Parts you don’t have access to. Now you do, and more or less legitimately, too.”

Roman’s eyes lit up, the rage evaporating instantly. “They’re mine?”

“More or less.”

“Is it more or less?”

You hesitated. The board representative, without more proper investment, would only acquiesce to two of Roman’s demands at most. Had you not been caught so soon, you would have properly cultivated the contact with strategic acquisitions. But now…

Zsasz’s hand tightened on your bicep. “More,” he whispered. It was hardly more than a breath drifting into your ear.

“More,” you said. “Definitely more.”

Roman whooped, unable to contain his delight. “What’d I tell you, Zsasz? She’s useful! No face-off surgery today.”

Emboldened, you added, “But you’ll have to let me be in charge of the books and funds.”

A hiss sounded low in your ear.

Roman’s lips twisted. “Why the fuck—”

“Because I can do more magic—and the board member won’t talk to you. He can’t risk it.”

Choking with exasperation, Roman stormed from the room, griping about the situation. As the door swung shut behind him, his voice boomed, “You stay, woman. But teach her a lesson, Zsasz!”

His grumbling remained audible until he reached the first floor. Silence reigned in his absence. Both you and Zsasz remained quiet, as though afraid to break it.

“Another cut?” you finally asked.

“It’s what I do,” he answered. He wiggled the knife between his thumb and index finger. “Where?”

You frowned. “I get to choose again?”

He nodded. “Somewhere Roman can see it.”

You weren’t sure you could handle another one on your face. Not so soon, at least. Thinking fast, you glanced down. You wore modest shirts that didn’t reveal much more than your collarbone.

“Here,” you said. You dragged your finger across your left clavicle.

He murmured something beneath his breath that may have been “Good choice.” You weren’t sure if it was a good thing that he liked the location. He turned you suddenly, your back against his chest.

Past midnight, the world outside was black, moonless. The uncurtained windows reflected your own image back to you, a ghostly version of yourself, Zsasz right behind you.

“So you can’t pull away,” he murmured.

The knife sliced slowly through your skin, right down to the bone. Biting back a cry, you grunted instead, unable to prevent Zsasz from feeling you tense. His breath quickened, uneven against your neck. The knife’s pressure disappeared.

You sagged, Zsasz holding you up. Opening your eyes, you stared down. The slash started low on your chest, ending an inch over your clavicle. It was longer and less straight than the one on your face, but you had more skin for it.

“Strike two,” you hissed.

Zsasz let you go. Staggering a step away from him, you remained slightly doubled over, the pain excruciating. You cursed.

“You were asking for it,” Zsasz said, watching you carefully. He shook his head. “The trick to Roman is convincing him your idea is actually his.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do you really think the face-off shit was his idea? It was mine, but I let him think it was his.”

You scrutinized the look on his face. “You know, if it came down to you and him, he’d choose himself.”

“I know.”

“You’re nothing more than a pet to him.”

“Better than being food like you.”

“Then why did you help me?”

“You ask a lot of fucking questions.”

“I have a right to know.”

“You should be grateful you’re still alive.”

You laughed ruefully. “Some existence I’m living, letting you carve me up.”

Zsasz stared up at the ceiling, hissed through his teeth. When he met your gaze, his own was unwavering. Zsasz’s gaze hardened. “It’s my job to protect Roman, even if it’s from himself. He’s…capable of becoming a god. He just needs some guidance.”

Shaking your head, you turned away. “I was wrong. Some existence you’re living, shoving your nose up his ass.”

His hand clamped down on your shoulder, spinning you back around to face him, his grip sure to leave bruises. Fire burned deep in his eyes, lips peeling away from his teeth in a snarl. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Clenching your jaw, you glared at him. “Let go. You’ve already inflicted your pain on me for today.”

He blinked, his grip suddenly slack. Taking the opportunity, you pulled back, putting as much distance between yourself and him as possible. Between the slaps to your face, the new cut across your collarbone, and his squeezing, your nerve endings were on fire, each pain point stacked.

He watched you retreat, a shadow flickering across his face. With a hiss through his teeth, he stormed from the room.

You sagged into the nearest chair, legs finally giving out as your grip on your fear loosened. Inhaling shakily, you dragged your hand over your face.

The door suddenly opened, a bleached-blonde head popping out through the gap. “I’ll…”

You looked up to see Zsasz standing fully in the doorway, a deep crease marring his brow. “What?”

“I…” Moistening his lips, he found his words. “I’ll convince Roman he suggested that you do that acquisition scheme.”

Frowning, your brain foggy from the adrenaline cooldown and the pain, you merely stared at him. Something was eluding you, but you couldn’t grasp it.

“Thanks,” you managed to say.

He nodded. “It’s learn fast or die around here.”

You stayed seated a few minutes after he had left, pondering his words. What did he care if you died?

The fresh wound throbbed in response.

#Victor Zsasz x Reader #Victor Zsasz #Victor Zsasz imagine #Chris Messina #Chris Messina imagine #Roman Sionis #Ewan McGregor #birds of prey #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #bop #zsasz imagine #zsasz #bop zsasz

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (3) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary: Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do:

Your stomach drops.

Fuck.

Of course, Damian just had to be the one to pick up.

"Hey baby bro, could you pass the phone to dad?"

"I'm sorry who is this?"

This little shit.

"You're such a kidder! Dami, it's me, Tim. "

“Ah yes, Drake-” You can hear Tim choke in the background. “What do you want?”

“Please Dami just pass the phone to dad, I- I really need to talk to him”

“Very well,”

“Tim?” The voice sounded like Bruce’s but the intonation was all wrong. The voice changer Tim and Babs were working on seems to have made progress.

“Hey dad, I- uh. I might have gotten kidnapped.”

Tim makes another choking noise. “Might have?”

“I was at the party. I think I had around 13 drinks. 13 ! Can you believe it? I felt like a right sailor after that, like the harbor workers, y’know? Anyway, I was taking a smoke-”

“Enough!” The large man roared, snatching the phone from you. “Send us $100 million by tomorrow or your kid’ll be shark bait!” Who says that anymore?

“Of course! Of course! I’ll have the money sometime this evening. Please don’t hurt him.”

Tim, God bless him, does not laugh. Tim’s acting needs some work but he sure does know how to act worried.

The line dies and they tie you back up to the post.

“What the hell?!”

“We have to make sure you don’t just runoff.” The large man says tightening your bonds. Truthfully, you’ve felt far worse. After all, corsets exist. However, this was still a close second.

“Do I look like I could outrun a snail?”

“He’s got a point boss. He looks like he hasn’t even seen the sun in ages.”

This, you decide, is true for Tim. When was the last time he went out before dark? Maybe he got sunlight when he stayed over at Eddie’s place.

The large man grabs Jason by the collar and throws him to his men.

The 3 men kick and curse at him. They mock him and beat him down. They wail on him with their fists, their steel-toed shoes, and sometimes brick. Jason takes it all with a crooked grin and a sharp tongue. You watched in awe. Even on the floor, Jason looked sturdy, ferocious, and indomitable.

"They all break, sweet girl."

Jason is on a tiled floor. No, he should be on concrete. His blood is on the tile. They’re hitting him. They’re hitting him with a bat. No. They aren’t supposed to be holding a bat. They were kicking him but now they’re holding a bat. No, She’s holding a bat. There's supposed to be three of them, three men, but their forms coalesce into her . You can hear his ribs cracking. Next are his legs. His legs are always next. Then his arm. She'll break each bone in his arms and his hands. He’s wheezing. His voice sounds hoarse. His voice is too hoarse. He sounds like he’s been starved and dehydrated for at least a day. They’ve only been here for an hour. That isn’t right. Oh God! Now she had a cleaver in her hands.

No!

He doesn’t need to die. She can’t.

no.

No.

No!

The scene crescendos as the tall, dark, sinewy silhouette towering over Jason raises the butcher's knife above her head.

“Harder, daddy!”

“Son?”

The scene of the kitchen fades and the shit-eating grin on Jason melts into view which shifts from amusement to confusion then back to amusement.

You blink seeing his stupid grin far too clearly.

You let a bark of gut-busting laughter out as you strain against the rope. Your brow pinches with concern but based on the scowls you’re receiving they're more focused on the fact that you were laughing like a mad man.

Jason looks like he’s about to laugh from the absurdity as well when the man in charge picks him up again tossing him into a chair. The other men tie him down binding his wrists and ankles.

"I've had worse." He spits out.

The phone rings again, the dial tone echoing. Jason looks like hell with his face swollen and bruises beginning to bloom on every surface but he still looked like he was 5 seconds from starting a fight.

The large man punches Jason hard in the gut knocking the air out of his lungs as the dial tone cuts off. “Hear that, Sionis? Your little bitch is pretty soft.”

Oh God, are they serious?

“Who is this? Nevermind. You ok there, sweetheart?” Roman Sionis’ ‘concerned’ voice carries over the line.

They are.

“Nothing I can't handle, daddy.” Jason chuckles with the utmost casualness. You, on the other hand, instantly want to disinfect your brain. Thankfully, before your mind could wander somewhere it can't return from, the big man growls into the phone.

“Don't you recognize the voice of the man whose life you've ruined?!”

“You've gotta be more specific than that. I've ruined quite a few lives but I would like to know whose brain I need to put a bullet in.”

“IT'S ME BRUNO HARDIN!”

“Doesn't ring any bells.” Roman deadpans almost sounding completely disinterested. “Sweetheart, you remember anyone like that?”

“Nope,” Jason replies letting the p pop. It seemed like a strange sort of triumph before it all crashes down with another swift punch to the ribs.

You stare at the strange scene torn between amusement and horror.

“Take this seriously!” Bruno roars.

"I'm taking this about as seriously as it deserves."

A part of you thought 'yeah this is ridiculous enough to warrant nonchalance' while the other part wanted to scream. On one hand, even you found his identity anticlimactic. Doesn’t he know just how many small-time businesses Roman has ruined? He’d be lucky to get into the top 50. It’s not like he was running a pretty ethical establishment either. On the other hand, your freaking kid is getting the shit kicked out of him. Emote damn it.

“Jason. Don’t you worry. Daddy’s going to take care of this. Your Uncle D happens to be in town. He’s on his way to pick you up. Love you, baby. See you soon.”

The line dies. Your stomach sinks further somehow. You don’t know if the nausea is due to the fact that the line died, the threat, or the number of times the word ‘daddy’ came up. Who the hell is Uncle D? How is he supposed to help? Your gaze trails to Jason who is now lowering his head to the floor seemingly tired. Maybe that last punch finally drained the fight from him.

“You're all so fucked.” Jason barks out in a fit of laughter. The men around him, jumping from the volume of his voice.

Bruno grabs Jason by the collar and begins to shake him as if the “Shut the fuck up you little bitch! Whoever your Uncle D is he's-”

“Deathstroke”

You feel like someone kicked you in the chest. First of all, Uncle D? Really? You guess that there are worse hills to die on. This was somehow weirder than hearing Faust and her siblings call him pops. Second of all, Fuck. You'd never gotten your asshanded to you by Deathstroke but based on how banged up the Titans looked after fighting him this wasn't gonna be pretty. All you could hope for was that you wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. Although, the image of Deathstroke grudgingly letting a kid call him Uncle D lightens your mood a bit.

Bruno throws Jason on the floor hard enough for his body to bounce. Like Jason earlier, Bruno is radiating murder.

Just run, you thick motherfucker.

You, being the ‘nice’ Wayne kid that you are, try to tell him as much but sadly that was halted by shattering glass. A flurry of black, orange, and metal crash through the glass and cut through the crowd of men.

They fire at him, panic making their faces even paler. They hit him, bullets sinking into his flesh, blood splatters but none of it fazes him. He skewers and cuts them down with ease. His swords and suit are liberally decorated with their blood when it’s all done.

He steps over Bruno’s body. From the grunt that comes out, Bruno is still alive. Dumb bastard doesn’t know how to play dead. He’ll die from blood loss anyway.

“Hey, kid-” Deathstroke greets tersely, picking up Jason’s nearly limp body. “We’re gonna get you home.” He slings Jason’s arm over his shoulder.

“Wait!”

Deathstroke stops sounding slightly annoyed.

Jason turns to you, who’s still unhappily tied to a post. “We gotta get him out.” He rasps.

“Kid, you’re the only one I’m getting paid to rescue.” Deathstroke helpfully informs as he carefully adjusts his hold on the struggling young man. You blow out a breath somehow more irritable than scared. “Just cut me out. I can make my way back just fine.”

“Walk in Gotham, are you stupid?” Jason hisses. The concern bleeding through.

“Which one of us charged at their captors while they were armed?”

Jason scowls at you with a petulant twist in his lips. “Yanno what, Leave ‘im.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry and yeah I’ll be fine. I know where to avoid. Just please don’t leave me with them” you plead, throwing away any pride you held as you glance at the most likely dead bodies. Deathstroke cuts you out. Your skin feels raw but you’re otherwise unharmed.

You walk out of the warehouse and Dick practically throws himself at you. “Oh thank god, they didn’t shoot you in the head.” He mumbles into your wig.

"Why would you think they would shoot me in the head?"

Dick pulls back and frowns at you through the domino mask. “You aren’t exactly the most pleasant-”

“ We were model hostages.” you squawk.

Jason snorts far too loudly to be helpful.

You glare at him but you weren’t about to say fuck off to him while he has one of the world’s deadliest assassins right next to him.

Deathstroke coughs. “Well if you don’t mind we’ll be taking our leave.”

Dick holding you protectively, glares but says nothing. Maybe he does but you faint before you can hear it.

A/n: Thanks for reading!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x oc #dick grayson #damian wayne #deathstroke #nightwing #slade wilson #roman sionis #black mask #batfamily x reader #batfam #false face au #crime au #my writing #dc fanfiction #dc comics

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Jay Arr - John Daggett x Reader (The Dark Knight Rises)

GIF CREDIT: X (okay the original source doesn’t exist.)

@happyskywhale @wltz-bby

A kinda crossover between TDKR and Birds of Prey.

Author’s Note: Ages and ages and ages ago @mandy23b reblogged the above gif set, and I said it’d inspired a part 4 of my ‘If I Didn’t Know Better’ series. And then... never gave you all a part 4. Mostly because in the end I didn’t think the mood of the GIF matched the mood of my series. I was further inspired to write ‘Dress’ but, again, it wasn’t appropriate. Then I was clearing out an old discord server and found an old chat in which a scenario was written about discovering Daggett’s middle name. I took that, and have thus adapted it into the below.

THEN I watched Bird of Prey and BAM-! this hit. And its 50/50 movie/badass soundtrack BUT, this was born, and I got to use that gif, finally! 😁 Enjoy, my darlings 💙😘💜

Disclaimer: TDKR nothing to do with me / gifs & lyrics and the usual not mine.

Premise: Finding out his middle name seems like an easy enough task. You should know better.

Words: 3285

Warnings: swearing / sexual connotations

_____ Girl, girl, girl can't you see What you do to me, tonight Boy, boy, boy, if you're mean I will start a fight tonight You and I could try to stop Oh boy till you drop If we get together now We'll burn this place down Boy, boy boy, want a fight? Come and stay with me the night Girl, girl, girl, are you sure (Uh huh!) I ain't here to fight, alright? You and me, can't you see We're playing with fire Tell me now do you feel this burning desire? Don't stop, make it rock It's taking us higher Could it be just a dream? Are you running away? If we get together now We'll burn this place down

---

It’d started innocent enough. Not that John ever made anything innocent.

John R Daggett? What does the R stand for? What’s your middle name-!?

Now you had him pinned beneath you, straddling him on his desk, wearing his tie, breathing hard and fast with his passport in your hands. Victorious of course - he wasn’t about to get up from the way you had him trapped, though he was straining. If Daggett thought that the growl in his voice was about to make you weak, he had another thing coming.

***

You waltzed into his office with a bunch of mail; “All of this came for you again - I really wish you would stop having your mail sent to my house, it’s quite annoying... why do you do it!?” “It’s a good address.” Neither of you were going for a customary greeting this morning. He wasn’t even about to rebuke you with a sarcastic ‘hello’. You scoffed “Wait, what? Don’t tell me you’re trying to give the illusion that you have a place in a fancy location? What can be fancier than this house?!” “One of the most sought-after locations in Gotham City, my dear.” “Rather than what...?” You looked around “One of the most sought-after houses in Gotham? Was this not enough for you-!?” He smiled, but didn’t look up from his work; “What industry am I in, pray tell?” “Property.” You sighed, folding your arms. Well, 90% of the time, but you were sure he didn’t want you to get technical with everything else Daggett Enterprises did. John clicked his tongue, “Precisely.” “So you want people to think you own the building?” “The illusion always helps.” You shook your head, looking back to the mail, your apartment was nice sure - but it wasn’t this place. Who cares how people would view the fanciness of the location? But, presentation and perception always was everything to Daggett. “I know you too well J. R. Daggett... Hey, what does the R even stand for?! I’ve never seen that before...” That was true. You’d seen J. Daggett a bunch of times (sometimes with his last name spelled wrong) but never the R. It had occurred to you that he may not even have a middle name but apparently he did. “Ahhh...” He leant back in his chair, staring at you, “I could tell you that, but then I’d have to kill you.” “Mmm... I’m sure I have ways of making you talk...” Daggett’s smirk was delightful. “As am I, but not about that.” You gave a shrug as if you would drop the subject, which of course you would not be doing, and dropped the mail off on his desk. He thanked you with a blown kiss, to which you let him know he’d have to do better - Daggett reached for your hand instead, but you allowed his fingers to slip from yours as you crossed the room. “John, I’m working!” Even though your voice was teasing, and you knew he’d continue to watch you. True, you worked for him; as something akin to a bodyguard, you supposed. Not in the same capacity that Philip was - you were trusted with the bigger more covert operations, rather than what’d you’d call ‘lacky work’, if John asked you to drive him anywhere he knew he’d get slapped – but if he needed someone on the other side of Gotham City taken care of discreetly, he’d send you. You also liked doing some of his business work for him on occasion, running contracts around town and picking things up – usually proof reading for him and triple checking everything sent over by his accountants. Oh, you trusted them, but if anything was out of place you’d rather catch it and send it back for them to correct, rather than have Daggett yell about it when he found it himself. You bent over to slip out of your heels, and heard his groan from behind you, smirking to yourself: “You really are so predictable, darling.” You supposed you looked even better today, in your short suit. “I don’t really care…” Was his breathed response, as you stood and turned back to him again. “If you want it, you gotta come get it.” “Were I not incapacitated with mail…” He nodded to the pile you’d left and you laughed, “Uh huh. I see.” You weren’t sure it was a relationship – you weren’t exactly calling yourself his girlfriend. You refused to entertain the implication that he was paying you (and well!) for your services, and that this was just one of those. Surely not; neither of you were seeing anyone else. It was comfortable – and you cared about him at least. You weren’t sure it was love yet, but you weren’t ruling it out either. You were happy to see that there was in fact a contract for you to proof read and you hadn’t come all the way out here for nothing – delivering his mail certainly didn’t help. “You hear they’re all still looking for the Bertinelli diamond?” “You interested?” If he was going to ask you to try and find it, you’d rather John just say it. You flipped through the contract to find the corresponding number and went to open his filing cabinet to find your redlined copy: hopefully it’d all line up. “It’s interesting.” “So you don’t want it?” “Everyone that does winds up dead, so no.” “Good.” “Your conversation is lacking today.” “Just sounds like hard work I don’t need to involve myself in, to me.” Plus you didn’t want to end up dead. You slid the contract out and then paused, before you closed the draw: didn’t he keep his passport in here? For business trips and such? You opted to keep him talking, sliding the top draw open as silently as possible “Who’s the interested party?” “Roman Sionis.” “Roman? That sounds messy… not something I’d want to be involved in…” You searched through the files carefully, AHA!, as you pulled it out. “Yeah, I’d ag- WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” “If you won’t tell me,” You waved his passport around, “I’ll just find out myself.” That got him out of his seat, “Put. That. Back.” “If you want it…” You smirked again, repeating yourself, “Come get it.” You probably didn’t expect John to be as quick off the mark as he was, and you were glad of being out of your heels (not that you weren’t fast in them), as you had to skid around the table and run around the outside of his office, taking a breather at his desk – clutching the little booklet for dear life. What was it he didn’t want you to know? It couldn’t have been that bad! Daggett, however, not blessed with young legs and the ability to apply the brakes quickly, slammed hard into the coffee table. “Ow-!” He turned back to you, not letting the pain show on his face, and you backed up a few paces, “Y/N. Get back here.” You looked cautiously around the room – where best to move… John was already unimpressed, a look of thunder on his face, he began stalking towards you – you inched around his desk to avoid him, though couldn’t help smiling – teasing Daggett was just plain fun. “I see that you’re not incapacitated with your mail now-!” “Shut up, and give it back.” “No.” “Y/N!” “All you have to do is let me see it!” Your face softened a little, “I won’t tell a soul! I won’t even laugh.” “No!” “Oh, come on…” “There’s no way on Earth I am letting YOU see it.” “Well… I’ll have to see it eventually.” Daggett almost stifled another laugh, “How do you know?” You shrugged, “If I have to book travel.” “You don’t think there’s a reason you don’t do that already.” You paused, and then conceded – good point, not one you’d thought of. He ran at you again, this time catching your wrist and forcing you to turn back. It was the wrong wrist and you held the passport away. “Please…!” If he wasn’t going to play, maybe he’d respond well to begging? He held his other hand out, teeth gritted, “I won’t ask again.” You looked hard from his face to his fingers – curling themselves tightly around your arm. Daggett promptly let go; but you realised that he had you pinned back against his desk. “Then don’t.” Without his hands on you, you could pull him to you by his tie, one harsh breath stealing kiss later and you had the situation flipped, and Daggett pinned to his own desk, “Just let me read it, John, quick and painless.” “Bullshit. I can’t have you knowing that.” Then he raised his hand, “Besides-!” Somehow he’d used your own kiss against you and swiped it back. “You’re kidding!? How’d you-!?” “I like watching you. I picked up a few things.” “Oh? You like watching me?” You pushed him further against his desk, tie still tangled in your fingers. You pulled the knot so it loosened, pushing your body purposefully up against his and rolling your hips. His moan might have been quiet but it was still audible, “I can give you a good angle to do that from.” “You’re not getting it back.” Although his voice was husky, and as you kissed him this time you made sure to nip his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Don’t make me fight you for it.” This time Daggett grabbed your hands, growling, “Remember who you belong to.” You narrowed your eyes, “Careful, John. I’m your employee, but you don’t own me. Not even like this.” You pulled your hands back from him and he conceded to your warning with an apologetic look. Satisfied, you stepped forward again and kissed him, one hand travelling over his chest to loop around his neck, and the other reaching backwards to try to reclaim the small booklet. Daggett was having none of it, still able to keep it out of your reach. You pulled back, huffing, and as you were never one to give up, decided to play dirty. Play him at his own game – it was time John Daggett got a taste of his own medicine (and you got to find out that middle name!). You withdrew the hand you were currently reaching with, instead focusing on his suit and he made little to no protest at you undoing his belt buckle; lips still on his. All whilst making sure he was still forced up against his desk. As your hands moved to his zipper you ground your hips teasingly back into his, to which you received a stifled moan for your effort, inviting him to undo your own. John didn’t need asking twice, hands on your waist line as he shimmied your shorts from your hips grabbing handfuls of your ass. That was predictable, and more than likely that passport would be soon forgotten. You had no trouble pushing Daggett to lie back on his desk, already looking a little dazed and elated about the idea of this happening in his office. Why had this never happened in his office? Maybe because he was usually the one taking the lead and you’d have to think about someone walking in any minute. With you on top of him you hardly cared. Let them walk in, let them see what I can do to him… You straddled him, undoing the buttons of your waistcoat and shirt you let those and your jacket fall to the floor, Daggett groaned again as he stared at you. You were in nice translucent lace today – you’d bet he’d like that. You kissed him again, teasing him as you slid your pants off and pulled his boxers down. You didn’t need to bother taking his shirt and jacket off, but you wanted that tie. You took John’s hands in yours and rested them on your waist, with a small wink. “Don’t lose track of your passport now…” He glared at you but as he opened his mouth to snap back all he could do was moan loudly, head tipped back as you lined yourself up and lowered onto him. You chuckled, placing your hands over his on your hips – his grip was so tight, which was fine, you always liked him getting rough with you. “You okay?” “Mhm.” His little smirk was back, “Damn, you always look good on top of me.” “Well, I’m staying here. Winner gets your passport.” “You can pry that from my-” John groaned again, eyes squeezed shut as you moved, just once, but harsh and enough. “Careful, babe, I’m in control now.” *** You straightened up after your last kiss, both panting heavily, triumphant. You fanned yourself with his passport, and half expected for Daggett to grab it back. It surprised you that he didn’t, so you tilted your head – maybe he was waiting for you to let your guard down. You had been playful in getting it back from him, but he didn’t put up even too much of a fight then, far more absorbed in your sex. Daggett put his hands up, admitting defeat; “Yeah okay. Fair and square.” You couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward to kiss him again, this time John’s hands followed you, keeping hold of his tie around your neck. Guess that made you doubly triumphant. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see when you opened it to the photo page and your eyebrow raised, causing him to place one hand over his face. “Roland?! Okay I get it.” “EXACTLY!” His voice was pained. And you vowed silently to never mention it again, at least until you felt like annoying or embarrassing him. But then only in your private moments together. This was an award – not many knew about this; you weren’t about to spill that kind of secret when you’d worked so hard for it. You smiled, grazing your lips to his, “Don’t worry, you’ll always be just John to me.” Snapping his passport shut you set it to one side on his desk; case closed. Once you’d caught your breath back, you slipped from the desk and to the floor, unpinning him from under you. It took him another minute to sit up properly, and pull his pants back on – watching you collect your own from the floor. You weren’t shy about putting on as much of a show redressing, although John grabbed your hips and turned you back towards him before you’d pulled on your shorts, placing his hands on your waist deliberately so buttoning your shirt and waistcoat back would be difficult. “What?” He surveyed your body for a moment, “Nothing.” “Then you’re not getting any of my work done by staring, are you?” Although you allowed him to catch your lips in a short kiss. “Maybe I don’t want to… You can do that whenever, right?” His hands ran back to your ass, pulling you closer. “If you want to pay me overtime?” You grinned drawing him to your lips once more, “Now may I get dressed?” “Can I have my tie back?” He unfurled it from around your neck. “Oh. I suppose.” You slipped from his arms as he took it back, and then stepped out of his reach as you pulled your shorts on, neatening your hair you crossed the room to the contract you’d left on the table, the real reason you were supposed to be here. John was more than just a little pouty as you turned back to him, but you couldn’t help but smirk a little – he wanted you to entertain him; you weren’t about to. “Don’t you have mail to open?” He huffed, rolling his eyes and finally standing, sifting through the mail for what was most important – but he didn’t sit back at his desk for a little while, wandering around the room. You would have asked, only that was exactly what John wanted. You knew this man better than he thought you did; but that was because you did your job properly – you needed to know him inside out. Because hell, if sometimes you didn’t need to protect him from his own big mouth. The ego on this man… You’d just about finished the contract when John cleared his throat, now back at his desk, there was a briefcase sitting upon it. He tapped it nonchalantly: “Speaking of Roman Sionis...” You raised your eyebrow, closing the contract you walked back to his desk, slipping back into your heels. “Sign.” “It’s clear?” “Mhm. You can read it. But it’s good to go.” John nodded, before looking pointedly from you to the case. You sighed, “You want me to go to Roman’s club?” “Yes. Do the deal, come straight back - what do I pay you for?” You weren’t sure if that was a trick question; “... ME?” If you were getting technical you were contracted for security; everything else was kind of secondary. “Do you want me to mention this damn diamond?” Was that his real reason for sending you? “What’s wrong with that?” He blinked against your question, “No, I was being serious!” You looked down at your clothing, you’d certainly need to neaten yourself up. Roman’s scathing comments were one thing, but he was capable of much worse for far less. “Think I might need my tie pin for professionalism.” On days where you opted to wear a tie, you liked to hold it in place with a tie pin John had gifted you; Daggett Enterprises engraved in cursive across the gold plate; your initials on the inside. “More like the hidden blade.” Okay, so maybe you’d modified it into a weapon yourself – but it was easy to conceal and no one would suspect such a little thing to be so lethal. It at least made you feel safe at some of his dodgier business dealings. “Well I don’t think he’s gonna let me take my gun in!” You scoffed, folding your arms. “You won’t need them, I promise. What would I do without you?” He stood holding the case out to you, you were tentative, but realised you’d have no choice, and took it from him delicately. Daggett placed his fingers under your chin and coaxed you to his lips once more. “Okay. Good… Can I stay to watch Dinah sing?” He smiled and gave you a nod, “You may.” “Thank you.” You tipped your head, half curious and half worried: “What if I don’t come back?!” “All the paperwork and everything is in there. You’ll be fine.” “I don’t trust him. I don’t like you working with him.” And you were serious. The sooner these two finished business with each other wouldn’t be soon enough for your liking. Even if you did get to see her sing every time you frequented the club. That was very nearly worth it. But it was hard to focus on her sometimes when you had to worry about him… “Y/N. Just. Do what I tell you. Go.” John was clearly exasperated, just wanting you to go deliver the case, no questions asked. He should have known better. You narrowed your eyes at him and read it all over his face: Ah! Shit, that was a bad choice of words! You held the case behind you, stepping up to him, eyes searching Daggett’s your voice was still calm as you breathed your threat sweetly: “You better be ready to be tied up by your own tie when I get back. Sir.”

Daggett swallowed hard as you stepped back again and turned, waving once but offering no more as you left his office. Oh, he’d done it now…

---

Thank you for reading! 😁

#John Daggett #Ben Mendelsohn #The Dark Knight Rises #So for those that don't know... apparently our John Daggett is a version of the character Roland Daggett #and thus this scenario was born in the discord chat #Carina #I'll probably write for them again because i kinda have fallen in love with all my ideas for her and the way she looks in my head #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Shout out to the Eurovision 2010 soundtrack!#There are some bops on this one!#John Daggett x Reader #177 #Carina is a bisexual disaster 100%#John's personality in my fics it fixed - he ain't changing!

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theodorecanaryhood · 4 years

Text

You're stronger than you look ~ believe me

Jason Todd x female reader

Jason first saw when he was the Arkham Knight. Gotham City was on lockdown, those that were left were either scum criminals, cops, vigilante heroes or innocent bystanders fighting for survival.

You were a different genre, kind of a long story but stems from somewhere around that you took in about 5 kids off the streets after their parents straight up left Gotham without them, or their families died.

~That night, the night of terror and chaos~

You had taken in 4 boys aged 13, 11, 9 and 4 along with a little girl who was also aged 4. The older two boys and the girls parents left in the evacuation, not staying around for their children. Just taking off. The younger two boys' parents died in the outbreak. Gunned down, lifeless in an alley.

The children were in your house, hiding out as the chaos erupted. You didn't know any of the children, they didn't know you. But you weren't about to let some low life, fuck head criminals, who think they're real manly, prey on innocent children. You have limits.

Arkham knight had just blown his way to Ace Chemicals, threatened Batman and got shot at by the bat mobile. Now, after he grappled out of the place he booked it to the nearest building or shelter. Just so happened to be your house...in between Gotham central and the Narrows.

Obviously, Jason knew the Narrows well as he spent a lot of his childhood there. He didn't anticipate you.

He ran upto the back fence and struggled to catch his breath. He'd just seen Bruce up close for the first time in God knows how long. It kind of messed him up a little more, as he was so angry at him he didn't know what to do.

'Who the fuck are the you?' Jason heard a woman's voice call as he got lost in thought. Looking up he saw you, your h/c blowing gently in the breeze, e/c narrowing at him sharply like a dagger. Your denim jacket and black skinny jeans with boots. He was taken back a little from the sight of you, 'what are you doing out here?' You asked just as demanding.

'Take a wild guess. You have no idea' Arkham Knight replied in his robotic voice. You stared at him, revolver in hand pointing at him, ready to shoot the second he show signs of threat.

'Y/n' the eldest child shouted to you in fear at the presence in front of you, you turned your head to face him.

'Jonny, go inside now' you called back to him gently. The arkham knight grabbed the gun from your hand as you struggled to break free of his grip, you then decided to kick him in the gut to get him off. Which worked, however it knocked the gun to the side. You lunged towards the gun and slid across the ground as you raised it once more. The Arkham Knight raised his hands in the air to surrender.

'You don't need to shoot me. I don't hurt women or children' Arkham Knight revealed, 'I will leave'.

~After the chaos, Batman is 'dead' and Red Hood has been born~

After Red Hood had his showdown with Black Mask....you know the whole snapping a guys neck and saying that he'll 'feel that in the morning'. Not to mention the going '300 this is Sparta' on Roman Sionis aka Black Mask out a window with the quote 'say hi to Joker for me'.

Red Hood was walking down an alley feeling good about himself, that was when he saw you again. With the youngest boy, now 5 as it was his birthday. You were doing up his jacket and the little joyful boy was rambling on about his 'most ectacular' day with you.

'I'm glad you had a good day spud' you said smiling the brightest smile at the boy.

'Thank you' the little boy wrapped his arms around your and hugged you tight, 'thank you' he repeated quietly in your ear.

'You don't have to thank me spud, you deserve it' you replied.

Red Hood smiled under his mask, the sight of the both of you. Jason saw the look in your eyes and realised the reason why he was so intently staring at you. He was feeling a little smitten.

~2 weeks later~

Jason Todd, fucking Jason Todd was the one you had to bump into on a girls night out at a dive bar. Of course, he asked for your number...not mentioning the one time you already met and the second time he stared you down with the 5 year old boy. Who you revealed to be your adoptive son, Joseph...or as most call him Joey. Or you just call him spud.

You did your hair, makeup and put on the best outfit you owned. The dress that won you over in jury duty and got you out of two parking tickets.

Jason on the other hand....what a wreck. He had a full on panic attack as he realised you were actually going out with him...willingly. Now he couldn't breath!

After an hour, Jason pulled himself together and left, got on his motorbike and made his way to your place.

¤At your place¤

Jason knocked gently on the door, you opened it with a bright smile and greeted him.

'Hey'

'Hey beautiful' Jason replied with a spark in his eye and a warm kiss on your cheek. You blushed at the word 'beautiful' while opening the door wider for him to come inside.

'Joseph isn't asleep yet, but my friend Kenzie is upstairs with him while she gets him ready for bed. I'll say good night to him shortly, would you like a drink?' You rambled as Jason made his way into the kitchen after you.

'No problem. And yeah, I'll have whatever you're having' Jason replied. You poured two glasses of wine and headed to the balcony. Jason followed you.

'More private out here. So, me having a son doesn't bother you?' You asked Jason. Jason shook his head.

'Not at all. My dad...was, single Parent of four kids' (Damian exists, just not seen or mentioned in Arkhamverse, but damn it he exists!) Jason replies.

'Bruce Wayne? Batman' you replied, Jason nodded.

'That night with scarecrow and the Arkham Knight trying to take over. I met him. The Knight. He came here, left without even attempting to hurt me' you confessed with passion.

'Really?' Jason asked, leaning in. Intrigued.

'Uh huh. Just told me he doesn't hurt women or children. Then walked off' Jason played dumb, but he was flattered you spoke in a polite tone about his old alter ego.

'I wonder what Arkham Knight would say to me now' you joked.

Jason thought for a second, then began to speak. 'You're a powerful woman. He'd say you're a powerful woman, beautiful, funny. Drank me under the table that night in the bar. You took in kids that were in danger. Gave up everything, risked your life for them. Adopted Joey, who is an awesome kid. Never met him but hey, he sounds awesome. What can I say y/n? You're stronger than you look, believe me' Jason rolled out his speech, you listened with pleasure and smiled when he finished.

You put your glass down on the table next to you and turned to face Jason. You then kissed him lightly on the lips...that was it, he was in love.

'Thank you for that. Needed that'

'What you thanking me for? You deserve it' Jason repeated your earlier phrase to your son.

Jason wouldn't tell you yet that you two have already met...in time. For now, lets enjoy the ignorant bliss.

Let me know if you want a part 2!

Also if you reblog, please credit me

Credit to gif owner ^^^^ 😘😘

#jason todd x y/n #red hood #fanfiction #red hood x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #dc universe #arkham knight #batman arkham series #arkham #gotham #gotham city #x reader #reader #feminine #female reader

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aubrey-plaza · 5 years

Note

I've seen a lot of fic rec lists lately given everything happening. Do you have any recommendations to get us through the lock down? p.s. I love everything you write.

omg thanks anon!!

I know these are scary times so have here a quick and dirty list of my fave fics starting with Staubrey and then just... veering offcourse. They’re all femslash except the one I marked with an asterisk but yeah.

as always, I’m not gonna rec my own fics on my this list bc that’s cheating but if you wanna read them pls click this link and that ends the self promo for today lmao

recs under the cut!

Stacie x Aubrey

Snowbound

by ACamp_toner / @stepintotherevolve (22.171, complete, rated E)

summary: The Bellas go on a ski trip and Staubrey happens

notes: this has amazing smut and features just enough jealousy to spark these two idiots into a meaningful talk. there’s also side bechloe and a healthy dose of humour.

The Howl

by @tiny-maus-boots (30.739, wip/currently being written, AU)

summary: Stacie's pack is forcing her into a corner but Fate has other plans for her - if she doesn't die first.

notes: werewolf!Stacie and vampire!Aubrey who meet on a full moon and fuck. there’s more to it and a great backstory that’s being wonderfully developed (trust me, I’ve been told of the plans and I’m ri-ve-ted). also has some amazing soft moments and a fab spark of heat.

Prelude in Lydian Mode

by knappster / @ss-staubrey (5972, complete)

summary: Remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always.

notes: I will rec this fic til the day I die. It’s such a lovely brand of staubrey and a perfect example of the idiots to lovers trope.

and the songbirds are singing (like they know the score)

by angelranger (2326, complete)

summary: It came as a slight surprise to Stacie that Aubrey, the same Aubrey who had grown up in a strict and dysfunctional household, was just so good with her daughter.

Bella seemed to unearth a side of Aubrey that was just so unbelievably soft, a side Stacie is almost positive even Aubrey didn’t know existed. But there she is, sat on the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table, sat right next to Bella, drawing outlines for the four year old to colour in.

notes: oh god i love a good, soft bella fic and this one hits all the right notes. it’s sweet and lovely and features singing Bella to sleep which is like. my weakness. go leave some more love on this deserved fic!

Sansa x Margaery

The Crackpots and These Women

by Netgirl_y2k (8089, complete, WEST WING AU)

summary: "You're in charge of press relations," Yara told Margaery, gesturing to Sansa. "Relate.”

summary: yeah you read that fuckin right that’s a West Wing AU. My love for this mashup has no bounds. It’s so perfectly coy, the way I imagine adult Sansa and Margaery would be, combined with the hopeful tinge of WW, and the pining of a somewhat open ended yet hopeful finish. If you like either of these universes, read this.

Kind Regards

by MsCFH / @hell-much (9835, complete, explicit, part of a series!)

summary: Margaery Tyrell is determined on setting foot in the Northern market of Westeros by establishing a collaboration between the Tyrell Corporation and Stark Incorporated.

The only problem? The likewise gorgeous and stubborn Deputy Managing Director Sansa Stark.

summary: holy hell this fic is amazing. they hate each other SO MUCH. the author has a vibe setting skill that makes me want to weep. the smut is off the charts hot like there are literally no words. go read it and then read the series bc it’s *that good*. please go get your church lady fan before reading because you WILL need it.

EXTRA NOTE: same author is writing a post-s6 canon compliant fic where Marg is actually still alive and if you’re looking for a full weekend activity, go ahead and binge this one (it’s a wip but is still being updated)

lay all your love on me

by 1once (9498, complete, show-compliant)

summary: It has been eight years since her demise.

But for the world of her, she cannot figure out why. For what? Why was she alive?

notes: i will say just one thing: flower. magic. okay, i’ll say more things. this fic is the redemption show!marg deserved combined with the fun supernatural magicky aspect of flower magic that’s just so in character. reading this fic feels the way a warm cup of tea in your hands on a cold winter’s day does.

til you come back home

by heart_nouveau (7978, complete, AU - modern setting)

summary: “Using one-night stands to distract myself from my crush on my roommate counts, right?”

Margaery Tyrell is an ambitious law student who needs a perfect grade point average if she wants to stay at the top of her class - and she is not going to throw that away by falling for her very attractive, very sweet roommate, one Sansa Stark.

notes: margaery is a moron with feelings aka my favourite type of character.

Birds of Prey’s Dinah x Helena

Siren Call

by ThanksForListening (3300, complete, part 2 of a series)

summary: "It always happened in the quiet moments. The early hours of the morning, when the leftover energy from a mission hadn’t quite disappeared yet. The sleepless nights, when memories clawed their way into her mind and wouldn’t let go until her screams released them. The lazy afternoons, when the radio played softly and melodies she’d almost forgotten danced around her lips. It was only when the world went still that Dinah felt her watching.

She didn’t remember the first time she noticed it. The staring. Maybe it was because Helena was always watching everything and everyone around them that Dinah didn’t realize how frequently that attention fell on her. How it felt different. Helena looked at the world with suspicion and anger and indifference, but not her. She looked at her with something much softer, something she hadn’t found a name for just yet. No word in her arsenal was deep enough or strong enough to describe it.

Whatever it was, she could feel it now.”

notes: gahhhhh this fic. “What do you see,” she finally asked, “when you look at me?” is a line that I’m gonna think about until the day I die. this is the second fic in a series and you can read it as a standalone but the first fic is also fuckin amazing

after the afterparty

by novoaa1 (1181, complete, set right after the movie ends)

summary: The Canary had let loose a delighted snort at that, as if she found the whole thing somehow laughable.

(Which it wasn’t, to be clear—laughable, that is.)

“Are y'all seeing this shit?” she’d turned to ask the rest of them, earning a giddy squeal from Harley and a bemused scoff from Montoya even whilst Helena remained stock still in place, dutifully blinding herself with one hand. “Absolutely adorable.”

“Shut up,” Helena had hissed back more out of instinct than anything else, though her tone was markedly devoid of any real anger.

(And if Helena had felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly beneath her palm at the Canary’s glib assertion, she certainly didn’t let on.)

Or: Sionis falls. The rest of them remain.

notes: just. read it.

knew your love (before i kissed you)

by z0ejake / @zxyjxy (58.263, wip / currently being written, rated E for the last chapter)

summary: Surviving the massacre of your entire family at the age of eight is a pretty impressive feat. Training for fifteen years in Sicily until you can kill a man with one hand and a hairpin is also a pretty impressive feat. Returning to the city where your family was cut down and killing every single person involved in their deaths is maybe the most impressive feat. Somehow, it's never been enough for Helena.

notes: bro this fic is a masterpiece and zoe is a genius. features absolute moron feral dumb jock helena and my favourite version of dinah: patient and endeared and a little teasing.

the war is over (and we are beginning)

by ace_verity (12.573, 5/5, complete)

summary: The thing is, Helena has no idea what comes after.

The past fifteen years, she’s had a singular goal. She's never given any thought to what she’d do once she killed the men who murdered her family in front of her.

Maybe, Helena realizes, she never actually thought she’d make it this far.

—

In which Helena Bertinelli joins a team, buys a cactus, beats up criminals, goes to church, bakes bread, and falls in love.

(Not necessarily in that order.)

notes: this fic is beautiful and perfectly explores a lost Helena. I also love the way Renee is written in this and the whole vibe of the story is just *chefs kiss*

cheap shampoo

by OfElvesAndAliens (1609, complete)

summary: The thing is, Helena is a rigidly focused kind of gal, iron rage forged into skilled precision. Dinah has also noticed it in the little things, like the way she frowns a bit when she's doing something as trivial as writing, her penmanship always neat and firm. That same tiny furrow of her brow is showing up again while she's methodically whisking some eggs in a bowl.

Dinah finds it cute. Fucking sue her.

notes: oh god but i love a bedsharing fic and this one? feeding and post-mission and just winding down together??? ohhhh my god

two extra random goodies just for fun:

Lamplighter

by the_years_between_us (116.915, wip, rated E)

show/ship: The Fall, Stella Gibson/Reed Smith

summary: Stella gets a call from Reed directly following the final episode of The Fall S3.

notes: this is one of only a handful of wips that I’m keeping up with and reading constantly. It’s written like goddamn poetry and I love an older ship with more baggage, because the emotions here run so much higher with their shared history and the tentative steps they’re trying to take. Also, given the source material, this is almost cathartic to read.

Nothing to Lose*

by tielan (8013, complete, rated E)

fandom/ship: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Maria Hill/Steve Rogers

summary: “It’s one of the traditional rituals of manhood,” Natasha observes as they’re sparring. “Kill a man, fuck a woman.”

notes: listen. i know. okay? i know this seems like a crackship. but I love it SO MUCH and this author writes so well that I’ve been fully converted. ~something some of you have told me I do for you~ so go read this fic, and then read the others, and then fall in love and join me in this lonely ship. You won’t regret it.

I’ll be writing while in isolation so if you have any Dinah/Helena or Stacie/Aubrey prompts, shoot ‘em my way!

and also hit me up for anything, as always.

peace and love, and stay safe everybody!

#fic rec #shoutout to anybody I may have missed bc I wrote this in a hurry <3 #anonymous #anon #ask

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

Note

So in the comics, Sionis's skull mask is actually NOT a mask and the result of him cutting off his face. What about a story where Roman entrusts with Zsaz with disfiguring him?

Perfection | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

1) Anon, please, you need to tell me what comic you saw/read this in, because I've read pretty much all of the ones Roman is in and it's always a mask (he's called Black Mask for a reason after all). It's usually just fused with his face because it was burned to it.

So, I'm genuinely just curious in which comic book version he cut his face off, because I'm not aware of it, fjdhfjkskfsl. And I need to read it. Please, dhjgsdjfhsf.

2) This turned more into a character study, whoops. I hope it's still to your liking anyway. Thank you so much for the request, it was super interesting and it totally got out of hand again... (cue no one being surprised).

I hope you enjoy! :)

summary; see above.

notes; TW / CW // Dissociation; Delusion; Psychosis; Visual Hallucination; Murder; Violence; Blood; Cutting; Disfiguration; Scars; Identity Death. That should be everything important.

A/N: Also, Roman suffers from BPD, like always in my Fics, so that's where this is all coming from, as I headcanon that it started out as the general symptom of having a distorted sense of self, and developed into a delusion, and then he suffered a psychotic break with hallucinations and such, resulting in his disfiguration.

[And remember that psychosis is a very serious thing and that I'm not using it lightly here. Psychotic people suffer. They're not bad people for having psychosis. They deserve love and respect. Don't use it against people, don't disrespect them with it and do not under any circumstances use it as a synonym for evil. Thanks.]

Everybody knew just how much Sionis cared about his perfect looks. Always, at any time, he had to look and be presentable, and he had to be perfect doing it. His parents had drilled it into him from an early age on, not caring much about anything about him, other than his appearance. He was one of the faces of Janus Corp after all. He had to be perfect in order to make the cosmetics sell better.

Still, when Roman looked in the mirror he couldn’t recognise himself. It was as though he was staring at a stranger. He painted his face and took great care of it; always making sure it looked immaculate. It didn’t help the disconnection he felt from it, though.

Sometimes it only made it worse, because really – he was just putting on a mask, wasn’t he? He made himself look absolutely perfect, so that others couldn’t possibly see what was underneath the surface.

He was a cruel and sadistic man, one with many issues, and a crime boss behind his businessman persona. That was all him, but it also wasn’t.

No, this cruel man was Black Mask.

The persona he’s made up to make a name of himself in Gotham’s underbelly. That was who he really was. Not Roman Beauvais Sionis. No, that man was just a mask that his parents had constructed and that he’s kept up all his life in a desperate attempt to gain approval and respect.

But every single day, one more crack appeared on this mask, and another piece broke off on worse days. Soon, none of this ‘Roman Sionis’ would be left.

He could feel it.

He could see it.

When he looked in the mirror, all he could see then was this broken mask, an empty shell, waiting to fully break apart and let the inside rear its ugly head to its fullest.

Some days even, he would sit in front of his vanity and look at himself for a while, seeing the way he cracked and broke apart slowly, but surely, how his skin was crawling with the feeling of it. It made him itch. He desperately needed to get it off.

So far he hasn’t dared to do it, though. He couldn’t make himself take a knife and just carve into this fleshy mask.

He hated the way he hesitated every time.

This mask didn’t mean anything.

It was just an unnecessary hurdle he had to overcome to be who he really was, to the fullest.

He’s already made a good progress of realising himself with the Black Mask, but it was just there to hide his perfect exterior, to seem more malicious, to protect his precious skin.

That particular night, he’s worn his Black Mask and had gotten into a nasty fight with some other criminals. While Zsasz and his other goons were usually so good at keeping him out of it, this time wasn’t so.

Victor had been busy fighting off three men at once – and really, Roman admired the way he’s overpowered them after all, soaked in their blood, three new tallies on his skin. It was magnificent. Zsasz was so gorgeous to him. He knew who he was; he had no qualms about whether or not he looked perfect. He wore each tally as though it was a medal – and in a way, Roman guessed it was. Sionis envied him – this freedom Zsasz had that he so desperately wanted.

Black Mask had been attacked by two men of his rival. He had tried shooting them, but one of them managed to knock his revolver out of his hand. It was okay, he wasn’t entirely incompetent when it came to hand-to-hand combat after all. Still, that didn’t mean he liked it.

During the fight, he’s taken some punches to the face, which was fine; the mask saved him of some of the damage. But then one of the muscles took it off his head, leaving him vulnerable. He hated it. It enraged him. His rage caught on fire, bursting into roaring flames. He went to beat them up with more fervour. He didn’t care anymore. He just wanted them dead.

And he did kill them, after one of them had swung a knife at him, slashing his left cheek. He wrestled it out of the guy’s hand and stabbed them both in the neck, watching with cold eyes as they bled out right in front of him.

The turmoil around him and Victor had started dying down by then. Eventually, they were able to go back home, death and victory hanging fresh in the air, excitement buzzing under their skin. And for that one night, Roman hadn’t even cared that there was a cut on his otherwise immaculate face, or that it would most likely heal into a nasty scar.

Of course, that hadn’t lasted very long.

The next morning, he had started crying because of it, too upset over his ruined skin, the evidence that his mask was slowly but surely breaking apart. He couldn’t stand it.

When the cut had healed, though, and it was merely a pink scar, and not as ugly as he had expected, it was easy to cover it up with make-up. He did that for a while, until he seemed to have reached his breaking point.

Roman has just gone through his usual nightly routine, which always took way too fucking long anyway for the fact that he’d never look as perfect as he wanted – no, not wanted – felt like he had to. And like so often, he just sat there in front of his vanity and looked at himself, staring at his face.

Was it really his face? He just couldn’t tell.

Was that really what he looked like? He didn’t feel like it.

It was just all wrong, so far away, not him.

No, that was underneath.

Everything important was only skin deep.

Or was it?

What if everything important was under the skin?

What if skin was nothing but a fucking hindrance?

What if perfection was nothing but an illusion? He was sure that it was.

Perfection didn’t exist.

Nothing and no one was perfect. He should know. While his parents tried to appear as though they were above everyone else, they really weren’t. They struggled with the fact that the Wayne’s were above them financially, but also as humans. Roman’s parents haven’t ever felt human to him at all. All affection was nothing but a lie, all ‘perfect and happy family’ was nothing but a show.

So no, perfection didn’t exist.

Then why did he even bother conforming to something that was only a construct anyway?

No more, though.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, it had become distorted. That wasn’t unusual for him. It happened a lot, especially as of late. He saw the crumbling mask that was his supposed face. Pieces broke off, starting by the scar on his left cheek. Those pieces were falling away, revealing only darkness. It was as though one was breaking a porcelain doll’s face in. Hollow inside. But that wasn’t what he was. He wasn’t hollow. His true self just needed a little help to come out.

“Zsasz!” he shouted for his partner.

It felt far away, as though someone else had shouted it, someone that wasn’t him. But then again, this wasn’t who he really was anyway.

“Boss?” Zsasz came into his dressing room.

He didn’t take his eyes off the mirror, looking at Victor through that.

“I need you to help me with something. You’re the only one I trust to do it right,” he stated, holding up the carving knife Zsasz usually used to peel off faces and slit throats on his command.

Victor looked at the knife and then back at him, looking confused. “D’you need me to kill someone?” he asked, unsurprisingly.

“No- well, technically yes, but not really,” he answered cryptically.

“Uh, sure, alright. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it, boss.” Zsasz was always so fucking loyal and obedient. It was truly lovely. That was exactly why he trusted him with it – and because Victor’s knife skills were definitely superior to his own.

“Good boy,” he purred and let Zsasz take the knife from him. “I need you to ruin this,” he continued, gesturing his hand around his face in circles to let Victor know exactly what he was talking about.

“Your face?” He nodded. “Are you sure, Roman?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed angrily, “And fucking do as I say! Ruin my face. I trust you to do it right and not have this body end up dead. ‘Kay?”

He didn’t know if Zsasz understood what he was on about, although it was so very clear to him, he couldn’t fathom the possibility of someone like Victor Zsasz not getting it.

“Alright, sure. Whatever you want,” Victor murmured then, “I need you to turn around, though. I can’t reach you well like this.”

Nodding, he turned around in his seat, facing Victor, who stood beside him on his right. “Go on then.” He twirled his hand, index finger up, for emphasis, like he always would.

In a way, he felt giddy with excitement, although some underlying anxiety lingered beneath it all. It would be okay, though. He was certain of it.

This was right.

This was what was supposed to happen.

Zsasz took a deep, steadying breath. Then he pressed the blade’s point against his right cheek. For a moment he didn’t do anything else, looking him over, giving him an exit to all of this. But he was so absolutely certain of himself in that moment; he wasn’t going to back out.

Not this time.

“Do it, Victor,” he ordered with a steady voice, conviction clear in it.

Nodding, Zsasz put pressure on the knife and pressed the tip into his skin, drawing a three inch line down his cheek with it. He didn’t react to the pain. He couldn’t feel it. He was so disconnected from it all.

Zsasz continued to slice into his face’s skin, making bigger and smaller cuts, all deep enough to scar, just like he did for his tallies. Blood was oozing out of them, running down his face, his chin, falling on his precious pyjamas – those with his face on it. It was alright, though. He wouldn’t need them after this anymore, anyway.

Eventually, Victor stopped cutting. “Is that enough, boss?” he asked.

He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. He’d have to wear bandages over his face for a good while, that was for sure. It was worth it, though, because now it was perfectly ruined – disfigured.

Roman Beauvais Sionis was no more.

Due to the blood all over his face and running over his lips, he could only nod a little. He didn’t dare talk just yet.

Then Zsasz cleaned up all the cuts and bandaged them, making sure it was all safe and secure for the night.

While his face was slowly healing, Zsasz had inquired why he’d asked him to do it in the first place. He explained it to him and Victor understood – just like he knew he would. That was exactly why they were so strong together; why they had been meant for each other; why there was never a question about whether or not their relationship had been a good idea.

No one but Victor Zsasz could understand him. And no one but him could understand Victor.

When he was able to leave the bandages behind, Victor ran his fingers over the would-be scars. His eyes reflected the admiration and wonder he must have felt. It delighted him. He knew it had been right.

“Thanks for trusting me with it, by the way,” Victor had murmured that night as they lay in bed.

“Of course. No one else could have ever done what you have,” he replied, kissing his partner, “Thank you for not refusing to do it,” he added, his lips brushing against Zsasz’s as he talked.

“Anything for you, boss. Told you so.”

“I know. Still, saying something doesn’t always have to mean anything. Only actions truly say what words can’t.”

“Yeah, I s’ppose you’re right.”

It was just so easy to be with Zsasz. He couldn’t have possibly asked for someone better at his side.

The next morning, he looked in the mirror without any kind of bandaging and for the very first time in his life, he felt a connection to his mirrored image. He could finally see himself.

Now when he wore his Black Mask it wasn’t to hide, or to protect – no, it was only to symbolise his true self, put emphasis on it. He had nothing to hide anymore.

Perhaps perfection existed after all. Just not in the ways that society believed in.

He realised that, when he stared at himself in the mirror, in awe.

“Perfect,” Black Mask whispered, stroking his fingers over the scabs on his face.

And he truly was perfect.

#blood cw #tw delusion #disfigured #tw dissociation #identity death #tw murder #tw psychosis #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #black mask #black mask fanfiction #victor zsasz #victor zsasz fanfiction #zsaszmask #zsaszmask fanfic #fanfiction #i wonder if anyone catches the details from the comics i incorporated into this fhkdsgkdfl #i also wonder if anyone notices what i started doing here after bit into the fic #i probably think this is more inconspicuous and smart than it really is rip fjdhjhdsjkfgdl

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jaybeartodd · 7 years

Text

Colleagues Pt. 3/17 — Jason Todd x fem. reader

Y/N is struggling with this newly found information but decides to push it aside while things are going well. And maybe this Jason character isn’t as awful as he initially seemed...

Sorry this is so long! I was planning on making this two parts but I forgot to stop typing. Whoops. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and thank you for the amazing feedback! You guys have been fantastic!

Warnings: swearing and mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1974

Tagging: @sarcasmismyfirstlove

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

It is sheer will and your hand supporting your chin that is at least keeping up the appearance of vitality as your professor lectures at the head of the classroom. After a quick digestion of the information discovered last night, you managed to hammer out a killer essay and get a whole 3 hours of sleep before having to wake up for your morning class.

You are trying to focus on what the professor is saying by watching their mouth but all you can hear is the conversation between you and Nick.

It was after a long shift at your old job that you came home to Nick using the kitchen for actual cooking purposes. Throwing your bag down you eyed him wearily as he gave you happy smile from behind a steaming stove.

"Hey sis! I got us a real meal; steak and mashed potatoes.”

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of his appearance. He has his long purple hair tied up in a bun and your Batman apron tied around his body.

“What did I tell you about buying that disgusting meat at the butcher down the road?” you ask leaning over the sizzling pan cautiously expecting the worst.

“No sis. This is real steak from a real store,” his dimples flash seemingly innocent and the steak does look halfway decent. If you even liked steak.

“Nick,” you sigh grabbing at a headache forming from the thought of him getting into your cash again.

“No, Y/N, look I swear it was all my own money. I didn't take a cent from your jar in the dresser. Cross my heart,” he gestures to his heart. Mental note; move jar.

You let out a breath and look into his brown eyes full of pride. You see the little brother who would do this silly promise ritual years ago when hiding in your self-made fortresses. Before he lost his way.

Finally giving in, you cross your heart in sync with him and he laughs kissing you on the cheek. After finishing up the cooking, you manage to have a decent dinner with him even if you push around the steak so he won't notice you not eating it.

It is one of the best moments you have had with Nick since you had to move in with him after several of his stints in jail. But you can't help the question burning in the back of your head.

“Where'd you get the money, Nickie?” you ask somberly. Instead of the guilt you are expecting you see his face beam.

“I got a job,” your eyes widen at this. The boy who hasn't held a job in years can suddenly afford steak with work he has never even mentioned applying for.

“No really! I got a delivery job! It is with a Mr. Sionis and it makes enough money that you can stop worrying about me and start focusing on paying your school and I can finally start supporting Trey.”

You can't help but absorb the pure joy emanating from him. You hug him and enjoy the moment even though you know he could make all the money in the world but the mother of his child would never let him have anymore than the every other weekends he is getting. Not that you can blame her. She has a big house, nice husband and great career. Trey is a cute kid and deserves the best life possible, Even though you miss him dearly and you know it crushes Nick.

This memory still rings fresh in your head as one of the better ones even though Nick went straight back to his binging within one week of work leaving you to pick up the essentials. At least he has somehow held the job and pays for his own alcohol now. You aren't blind to the effect the job has had on your brother and now your curiosity grows knowing who his boss is and even more now that Mr. Wayne seems interested in the guy despite him supposedly being in Arkham.

You show up to your desk that night to find an invitation laying on it. Looking around you don't see anything out of the ordinary. Although, did you expect to see someone gazing above their respective cubicle laughing at a rather lame prank?

The Wayne logo is painted across the front of it and you open it to see an elegant flourish of details of a ball. It seems you are cordially invited to the annual Wayne Enterprise Ball. You can't help but feel a grin spread across your face. How very posh. You chuckle to yourself but you know you are excited at the chance of attending the most prized Gotham event.

You probably will not be the most lavish of the attendees considering your limited store options that pair nicely with your limited cash flow but hell you will feel damn beautiful. You clutch the invitation close to you before putting it into your bag unaware of the amused pair of eyes watching your reaction.

“Jason, your attention would be appreciated.”

Jason sighs and pushes himself off the window he was observing you from.

“Yeah yeah Bruce. You've got the fullest of my attention.”

The next two weeks go by fairly quickly, You managed to make it to break from school with only a couple of sleepless nights preparing for midterms. Nick hasn't had another binge since the night you found out the interesting tidbit about his new job. Troy had a great visit where we attempted to bake ending in a floury mess. All of this, plus your growing excitement for the ball tonight, has caused you to push the Sionis incident from your head for now. You really didn’t want to rock the boat while it was wading steadily for once.

Your rose red dress from a nearby thrift store illuminates your carefully illustrated makeup and your y/h/c piled on top of your head once you are ready to head to the ball. You lock the door behind you and can’t help but feel giddy.

Not only are you being handed the perfect opportunity to make fun of ridiculous people in one setting but you are being handed the perfect opportunity of meeting local newspaper hotshots who could be your road into journalism.

Your heels from a lifetime ago that you dug from deep depths of your closet may look great but are not the ideal footwear for a hike to Wayne Manor so you made sure to save up for a taxi. Not your atypical classy but better than appearing with bloody feet and being mugged 67 times on the way there.

The Wayne Manor is hard to miss even as you are a mile away. You find yourself dazzled by the vastness only seen previously by you on TV. Your taxi driver drops you off at an appropriate amount of distance so that you can walk.

You pass what you assume to be millions of dollars of jewelry and satins as you make your way towards the mansion. An older gentleman with a gentle face is checking invitations at the door.

You hand him yours hoping not to seem too eager. He gives you a warm smile as you thank him.

“Have a fantastic night Ms. Y/L/N.” his accented voice reads your name off the invitation.

The inside continues to astonish you as you take in the riches you thought only existed in movies. You can't help but gawk at the amount of stairs. Why do rich people need so many stairs?

After grabbing a drink, you go in search of familiar faces. You greet a few of your coworkers but then your eye catches an editor for a major newspaper in Gotham. You wander over to the assorted foods and pretend to be interested in them when in actuality you are plotting the best way to introduce yourself.

“You're staring,” a voice makes you jump and drop your plate you had began filling up.

Oh there's only one person that could be.

You turn around to find a smirking Jason Todd. He cleans up nice, you mentally note. He has a crisp, obviously expensive black suit on and his hair is semi tamed back with some gel.

“Is this some weird hobby you have? Scaring the crap out of people so that they drop absolutely everything in their hands,” you bend down to grab the food but he holds out a hand and swiftly crouches and sweeps the crackers back onto the plate. He grins and offers the plate back but your only answer in return is a look of annoyance.

He shrugs and puts the plate back on the table.

“So why are you staring at Mr. Prie?” he asks and you cross your arms.

“I'm not.” he hitches an eyebrow at this obvious lie,

“Yeah ok well since you aren't you probably don't want me to introduce you to him,” he challenges you with an amused look and his hands casually shoved into his pockets,

You contemplate your options. Ignoring Jason and hopefully keeping the clumsy at a normal rate. Or meeting the man that could possibly give you the job of your dreams.

“Fine, yes I would love to meet him. Could you please introduce me?” you grumble and this seems to feed the smirk.

“On one condition,” he says.

“Listen pal I am not being blackmailed into a date-”

“One dance. That's all I ask. One dance,”

You stare at him calculatingly.

“Is this how you usually get girls?”

“I usually don't work so hard,” you blush at this which amuses him.

“Fine, you weirdo. I will dance with you but first introduce me,” you give in.

He offers his arm with a boyish grin. You roll your eyes and stroll past him towards Mr. Prie.

Jason does an impressive job of introducing you as a highly-valued employee and even compliments your character. Damn, this man can charm the pants off of anyone. Mr. Prie ends up offering you a personal tour of the paper, making you even more successful than you thought you'd be.

You manage to keep your calm professional look as you shake his hand but when you are out of earshot you punch Jason in the arm in excitement.

“A personal tour!” you rub your hand after punching a surprisingly thick mass of muscle.

Jason’s grin matches yours as you look up at him absolutely beaming.

“Thank you so much for your help,” you say genuinely.

“Hey don't use your words to thank me,” you look at him questioningly as he does an obnoxious spin and offers his hand out to you, “Use dance.”

You chuckle at his dramatic voice.

“Yeah about that, I can't dance,” all of a sudden you are pulled into the dancefloor and you collide into Jason's firm chest.

“Nonsense,” he says and you shake your head.

He looks at you sympathetically, “Here just follow my lead.” His hand wraps around your waist drawing the breath from you while his other hand clasps yours.

Placing your free hand on his shoulder, your feet follow his and after a few toe-steppings, you find yourselves falling into a natural movement.

“I am really sorry I was so rude to you the first time we met. I'm not usually like that I promise,” you say breaking the silence.

His eyes twinkle bemused.

“I think I am the one who should be apologizing. I was being a jackals.” he admits.

You nod your head. “Yeah, you're right. Forget what I said.”

He laughs a hearty sound and you can't help but enjoy the vibrations it sends through his chest.

The night is turning out way better than you expected. But it can only last but so long.

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

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addicted-to-dc · 7 years

Text

Damian Wayne/Robin X Reader- The Next Bruce Lee (Part 5)

The Next Bruce Lee, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Guess who’s back, back, back, back again! I’m refreshed and ready to get back in the writing game. Thank you guys so much for being patient, I was going cuckoo for cocoa puffs this week and I needed a few days. I’ll try to go back on my usual posting schedule, but it’s going to take awhile to get back to normal.

Warning: Swearing, death threats, medical terms/stuff that I don’t know if I wrote correctly or not, mentions of mmuuurrrrddeeerrrr

Sionis left the room after that, instructing the scientist to prepare you for transfer. You knew you could do nothing to resist, the I.V. in your arm already pumping drugs into you as she inputted the dose. Slumping against the bars, you stretched your cramped limbs as far as you could, trying to relax to some degree. The cold metal provided some comfort to your blazing body, feeling uneasy whenever you thought about what Sionis had made you go through. The scientist said mutagen, and that meant he wanted you to have some type of metahuman ability. You knew there was no way that you wouldn’t get whatever ability you get, the thought making your stomach churn.

You were here because you ran away from your soulmate, the person you were supposed to spend the rest of your existence with. Damian had beaten you senseless and his father knocked you out, but they didn’t turn you in. His father may also be an asshole, but you knew that he was just being Batman. You were the criminal that happened to be his son’s soulmate, providing not a new family member but a way to solve a case. By running away, you left your soulmate in the dust, got Pete killed and now you’re stuck in here like a labrat. You didn’t feel human, you couldn’t feel anything without going on an emotional roller coaster. On one hand, you want to give up and let Sionis use you for whatever schemes he has planned. On the other, you want to be the bane of his existence, resisting him until your last breath.

You could feel the drugs making you drift slowly into unconsciousness, your vision becoming blurred. The staff shuffled around you as you slumped against the bars of the cage, opening the cage and pulling you out. You could feel your bare legs and feet drag across the freezing floor, the sterilizing stench from the medical tools burning your nose.

“No,” you muttered, trying to pull your arms from their grasp. “No!”

You pulled your arm from their grip, slamming your hand onto the ground. Shrieks and shouting came from the staff behind you, more hands gripping onto your torso. You could feel your nails breaking against the tiled floor, blood oozing from your fingers. The I.V. was ripped from your arm, your arm finally restrained again. A needle was shoved into your neck, making you gasp in pain.

“What is going on here?!”

Immediately after you heard his voice, the sedative was plunged into you, making any form of consciousness you had fade away.

----------------------------------

Groaning, you woke up to find yourself restrained on a chair in a pitch black room. The straps, you guessed a belt, dug into your arms, legs, neck and stomach. The pressure on your neck made you wheeze, but you were still able to suck in air.

“I see you’re awake.”

You froze, flinching when the lights flashed on. Blinking rapidly, your eyes slowly adjusted to the brighter room. Sionis was standing in front of you, his arms crossed. The strap wrapped around your neck forced you to make eye contact with him, well, more like the eye sockets of the mask he was wearing. You let out a shaky breath as he approached you, grabbing something to your left. He lifted the object, your eyes widening when you realized he was holding a syringe.

“Your little… escapade during your transfer made me realize that I needed to switch around a few things before continuing your treatments,” Sionis stated, waving the needle around. “This is my reassurance.”

“No,” you said, barely able to shake your head.

“I find it hilarious that you have a say in this,” he chuckled, walking closer with the syringe.

“You can’t do this,” you said, the strap digging against your neck. “He’ll find me, and you know it.”

“Your soulmate will find you when I want him to,” Sionis stated, grabbing your neck and tilting it to the side.

You hissed, the strap digging even more into your neck, “You’ll pay for this.”

“Actually I have paid for this,” he quipped, shaking the syringe, “with lots and lots of money along with all of the equipment I bought to give you…an upgrade.”

“You made me a fucking lab rat,” you seethed, struggling against his grip. “You killed Pete!”

“I can agree with that, but you’re the reason why he’s dead,” Sionis stated, plunging the needle into your neck. “You’re the one who ran to him when you needed help, and look where that got him.”

“I’ll kill you!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face.

“That’s some character development,” he laughed, injecting the serum into you. “First I hear that you want to keep your record clean, that you want to leave all of the crime behind. Now you’re spitting out death threats. Let me give you some free advice, if you’re good at something and getting paid a handsome amount to do it, stick to it.”

“That’s not who I am,” you whispered, completely numb.

“Well, no, but it’s who I’m going to make you into.”

#damian wayne x reader #older damian wayne imagine #Damian Wayne #older!damian #imagine damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #robin #robin x reader #robin imagine

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