#Well...safe is a strong word -- Bane knocks him out but no more damage than that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morgansunflower · 1 month

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I'm Not Afraid

Jason Todd X Wife! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language, blood, injuries, guns.

Words:1480

Requested taglist @too-strong-to-losee @asrainterstellar

Arthur's notes! Tim Drake is 11 and is Jason and Reader's son! Tyler is 7 and is their son. Loosely based off of comic where Alfred is killed by Bane.

Cadmus takes Jason hostage giving him injections with Bane's venom. Do to his new abilities Alfred's death ends drastically different.

While captured Cadmus had given Jason injections of Venom.. Bane's Venom. The results were well received by the scientists. Who saw Jason as nothing more than a weapon. However his humanity still remained... Even with the torture...

Jason was a foot taller. His could run twice as fast and could see many miles away. The Lazarus mixed with the Venom permanently changed his eye color to a bright green. He could see well within the dark and had a higher pain tolerance.

After he escaped his family was being watched by Cadmus as they were waiting for Jason to arrive or to his worst fear... Kill them if he didn't come forth and do as they ordered. So he wrote a coded message to his son. Tim instantly cracked the code. Once Y/N and her children found Jason hiding deep within the mountains in a safe house.. They stayed there. Where it was safe.

...

Of course Bane has escaped from Arkham thanks to Thomas Wayne aka, Batman from another universe. Both intending to take over Gotham.. Of course Bruce was at the watchtower.. Of course he can't let Alfred die or let them hurt or kill his baby brother.

Jason growled under his breath seeing the culprits inside Wayne Manor. With his uniform nearly entirely different from before and face completely concealed.. He was nearly unrecognizable.

Damian watches helplessly his eyes shaking in complete dreaded horror. He nearly cried out as Bane was preparing to break Alfred's neck.

Suddenly a great force breaks the window startling everyone. Jay thrust his hands onto Bane's neck forcing him to be shoved back to the wall.

Thomas took out his guns shooting at him. Jason dodged but wasn't able to avoid the bullet that went straight through his arm. Jason yelled out loudly. While in pain Bane took the opportunity to deal damage to Jason.

Damian quickly released his restraints and leaps kicking the guns from both of Thomas's hands.

Alfred heavily breaths keeping himself steady so as to not have a heart attack. He calms down trying to loosen his restraints.

Jason flips backwards avoiding Bane's thrust from his leg. He lands perfect snarling to him to back off or he was really going to hurt him.

Alfred hurried to grab his shotgun loading the weapon and cocks it.

Jason uses his hands to break apart the tubes draining Bane's ability to fight. Bane blinks as a, fist punches him to fall to the ground unconscious.

"get the hell away from him!!" Alfred threatened Thomas, pointing to his chest. "don't think I won't kill you to protect my grandson!"

Thomas took Alfred's weapon as the old man was weakened from the prior altercations. Jason leaps tackling Thomas as his foot was about to press against Damian's chest. He throws the gun from his weak grip. At least compared to Jason's own strength. Jason lifts him up above his own feet. Thomas yelped trying to fight him off.

"get off of me you fucking monster!!"

Jason drags him past the shattered window throwing him far enough to knock him unconscious but not kill him. He scoffed wishing Bruce could see how under control he was now.

Jason did not face those who stood behind him. He was different now... Would they think he's a monster? Is it irrational? Yes. Though he can't. Not now..

"who are you boy?" Alfred asked him "you're bleeding. Please allow me to me repay you and bandage the bullet wound"

He lowly sighed shaking his head heavily breathing. He was exhausted, drained. He felt he would pass out just from the intensity of pace from his heart beat... It wasn't only his adrenaline...

"why did you help us?" Damian asked him.

Jason quickly runs off as he hears, the bat-chopper.

....

Y/N's eyes shoot open as she wakes up hearing a loud crashing sound in the bathroom. She leaves the bed quickly. She then heard a lowly grunts. She hurried finding Jason cursing while trying to open the medical kit, he had dropped...

She sees the blood dripping down his arm and onto the floor, from the bullet wound. She comes closer to him taking the kit away from his weak hands. She, wasn't going to be able to take care of his wound easily while he was standing. So she motions him to sit down

"I.." he takes a ragged breath "I didn't mean to wake you"

"it's OK, I'm glad you did so I can help you. Just sit down and let me take care of you, ok?" she pleads to him

He gently nodded. He kneels on the floor and rest his arm on the seat of the toilet. She stands near him opening the med kit.

"may I ask what happened?" she asked trying to distract him, soaking a cloth with isopropyl alcohol

"Bane escaped Arkham thanks to fucking Batman from the other universe or whatever. Of course Bruce was the first target" Jason scoffed bitter "but he was gonna kill Alfred to get to him" Jason sighed shaking his head "they had my baby brother to.. They're OK by the way.. Bane and Bastard-Bat's not so much"

"oh babe" she cried sympathizing the fear that must've been consuming him. She also knew if he's here then they definitely don't know "you shouldn't think that they'll think less of you because.. You're different or that the Lazarus becoming more apart of you makes you dangerous.. Maybe they can help get rid of Cadmus?"

"please don't" he begged bitter, he can't think about that.. Not right now at least.

"it's, only because I love you.. This is going to sting"

She gently applied the cloth with isopropyl alcohol, to his wound. The pain caused Jason to cry out. Y/N cringes to herself.

"fuuuuuck!!.." she wipes the blood away and bandages with wound as he heavily breathed "I'm sorry for scaring you. I really don't like being like this. I don't like being so much like a fucking monster"

She tied the bandage securely and then cups his face "you are not scaring me Jason. I'm not afraid of you and you are not a monster. If there is anything you hear or see weighing on me, it's that you are worrying me"

Y/N helps him stand onto his feet. He hunches his back so he can kiss her. He helps her clean his blood on the floor. She takes his hand and guides him to their bedroom. She turns on the lamp on her nightstand.

She helps Jason change into his most comfortable clothes while eternally cringing at his bruises. Afterwards she turns off the lamp.

She moved the covers, he lays in the bed taking the covers and lays it down on himself. Do to his much taller frame, his feet now draped over the end of the bed.

She lifts the covers cuddling right up against him. Jason wraps his arm around her. He was more than enough warmth and comfort for her.

The door knocks and then gently opens by the little boy. Who was accompanied by a even smaller little boy. The Todd brothers had heard their dad's painful shouts and the loud crashes. Both parents look at their concerned children.

"is daddy OK?" Tyler asked

"we just wanted to make sure he's alright" Tim informed hoping that they weren't disturbing them

"your dad is OK sweethearts. He just had a rough night on patrol. He'll be OK" their mother assured.

"I just was being stupid and reckless on patrol.. I'll be alright kiddo's" he glances to Y/N with a silent question, she smiled nodding "you can stay in here tonight. If you want to" he offered

Both boys nodded dramatically. Y/N moves to offer them room into the bed. Tyler and Tim didn't hesitate. Both brother's crawl onto the bed.

Tyler crawled close to his dad hugging him. Jason carefully touches the side of his son's face. He looks to Tim and smiled softly. Tim studied where his Dad's injuries were angered and hugged him carefully.

There was plenty of room for them to lay on him as Jason was quite taller and larger, than he used to be. Jason nestled Tyler between his good arm and chest. Tim laid on the opposite side of his brother, as he laid his head on Jason's lower chest.

Y/N reaches at the end of the bed grabbing the folded additional blanket and lays it on both her sons. She leans over kissing the foreheads of each of her boy's and her husband.

As Y/N turned off the lamp she laid closely to them. Jason smiled softly from the sweet comfort from them. It was exactly what he needs. It was the reassurance he needs... That he isn't a monster. That they're not afraid of him.

#Cadmus #fluff #Batfam #Jason Todd X Wife! Reader #tyler blue hood #Tim Drake is a kid #Tim Drake is Reader and Jason's son #Jason Todd is Tim's dad #Good dad Jason #Cursing #gunshot wounds #Gun violence #Damian Wayne is older than Tim #Cute kids #Sweet kids #Tim Drake needs a hug #Injuries #Blood #Kid Tim Drake

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writersindigestion · 7 years

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taunted | edward nygma x reader

“maybe regret wasn’t a strong enough word.”

reader gender: female

words: 2527

warnings: probable PTSD, paranoia, trauma, substance abuse, death, general negativity

notes: hey, y’all. this part was getting... extremely lengthy. the original document is closing in on 10,000 fucking words, so i did y’all a favor and split this part up. no ed in this one, though he is heavily mentioned... will post the next part within a day or two. lotsa edward later on.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX also available on: AO3

[Y/N] never made a return to her post at the GCPD. She didn’t tell them she wasn’t coming in, she didn’t tell them she was quitting, and she definitely didn’t tell them why. Surely they had tried contacting her cell phone - not that she could answer it, considering it had been stolen. The precinct had tried calling her home phone as well, but in the past weeks, she’d completely moved in with Chrysanthemum. Every time she returned to pack more things, she’d see the blinking light on the answering machine, but could not gather the guts to check her messages.

The only employee that ever got ahold of her was Kyle - and he was more than happy to keep his mouth shut for a chance at spending more time with a woman who never failed to make him smile. He’d brought her desk things to her, all bundled up in a little package so as not to break anything. All she’d really wanted was her coffee mug, but she was sure-as-shit happy to have any of her stuff from work in the first place.

Kyle had asked if she wanted to spend the night at his home, but [Y/N] turned him down, explaining that she didn’t feel safe enough in Gotham to accept his offer. He pressed her for details, worried that she was in danger, but she shut him out. It hurt, just a little, to think of the kicked-puppy expression on his face as she closed her door for the night.

This was for his safety as much as it was for hers. Who knows what his plans were as of late? Was he busy murdering someone else? Did he look for her? Was he still covering his tracks? Or even, blissfully, she wondered if justice was hot on his heels.

She shook those pleasant thoughts from her head - the man was a genius, if not a felon and a murderer - he wasn’t likely to get caught. Still, a little part of her was hopeful, and a large part of him was an egomaniac - he could get sloppy for the sake of narcissism.

There was nothing more in the world that she wanted than to meet him again so she could give him the beating of his life. If [Y/N] ever saw Edward again, however, she knew she’d either end up dead, kidnapped, or laid. None of those situations were ideal since she figured fucking him would just feed into whatever sexual, and likely psychological, fixation he had with her (or maybe, it was herself with the fixation).

It didn’t matter - it was the only thing that mattered - it didn’t matter at all. She didn’t dwell on it - it was the only thing she dwelled on - she didn’t dwell on it at all.

Her head ran itself in circles, trying in vain to make her feel safe. Safe? But being afraid was so much safer. Stay afraid, stay safe - that’s how it worked, right? It had been so long since the young woman had felt secure. Every single thought of Nygma was encapsulated entirely by fear - especially when she was alone.

But sometimes, at night, she would feel her lover crawl into bed behind her, wrapping thick, warm, caring arms around [Y/N]’s middle - and no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the feeling of Chrysanthemum breathing next to her, she only felt the cold, slender limbs of the forensic murderer coiling tighter and tighter at her torso. Depending on her level of lucidity, she might feel the feathers of dark, unintelligible murmuring along her neck, or icy claws tiptoeing between her legs. And as she leaned into the heat of her lover, she couldn’t help but think of the anaconda drawing her deeper into its circle.

She’d often find herself in a state of sleep paralysis, unable to escape the nightmare, even though she knew it wasn’t real.

[Y/N] rarely slept anymore. Her girlfriend would cry with frustration, tired of seeing the traumatized young woman in a state of such despair. She offered her everything - a confidant, a therapist, medical help, a vacation, a night out - but most everything required leaving the comfort of the apartment building, and so her efforts were ineffective.

Drugs, however, were the one thing that helped. Most of her surplus cash was spent on weed, booze, and sleep meds. At first, Chrysanthemum wasn’t bothered by the blatant substance abuse, but after finding her lover puking in the toilet on one too many occasions, she started hiding all of her drug paraphernalia, leaving only a solitary beer in the fridge every morning.

[Y/N] noticed the sudden disappearance of her liquor, pills, and marijuana. In fact, for several days, most of her alone time was spent searching for her stash. She never found it, and hated herself too much to complain. When she wasn’t working at the coffee shop on the ground floor, she was sitting, stock-still, in the chair by the window, a lonely beer in one hand, and her head in the other. The TV would drone on in a nearby part of the room, filling in the empty spaces between morbid thoughts, and her eyes would lay steadfast on the church across the street.

In the midst of depression and the beginnings of a drug habit, a new development was forming - Jim Gordon was sent to Blackgate prison for a string of crimes that were suspiciously… Nygma-fied. [Y/N] spent the morning following that piece of news with her head hugging the porcelain throne, and a small handgun clutched in her fist. She wouldn’t let Chryssie leave for almost four days, she was so petrified that she was next on his list. Eventually, she lacked both the emotional and physical strength to keep her girlfriend home with her.

The frayed woman was allowed two beers and a small glass of wine, provided that she accompany Chrysanthemum on at least two outings per week. Begrudgingly, [Y/N] obliged, even going so far as to add an errand every day! Unfortunately, her daily trip was to the building next door, where she took up a gym membership and started participating in self-defense classes.

It was “unfortunate”, being that the only reason for pushing herself was to try and keep her girlfriend safe from a man that she hadn’t seen in several weeks. Chryssie joined her on most gym days, intent on keeping the withering woman from hurting herself. At least she was more health-conscious now - the exercise kept up her appetite, which Chryss was sure to satiate with nutritious meals.

“Gotta keep your strength up, girly! Do it for me, if not for yourself.”

More weeks passed. More gym days. More coffee-making days. More staring-at-the-church days. More searching the apartment days. More snakes-around-her-waist days.

[Y/N] had long since reached a stalemate with someone she wasn’t even sure was still a player in their sick, little game.

The woman somehow refused to admit to herself that she was afraid - especially at this point in the situation. Sure, she got nervous if her girlfriend was a bit late coming home. Sure, she choked on her own heart when someone knocked on the door. And sure, she checked the dark corners of their home for long, lanky men every morning, noon, evening, night, and each time she got home from any single errand - but that didn’t mean she was scared, per say… Just… Unhealthily cautious.

It was getting to the point that she wished he would: a) kill her, b) kill himself, c) otherwise die, or d) get himself arrested.

And one glorious, partly-cloudy, snow-littered, chilly day - Edward Nygma selected option - drumroll, please - … “D”!

When her roommate returned home that day, she was concerned to find [Y/N] sobbing - not that it was unusual, however… Tender hands caressed shaking shoulders, and she placed her head in the crook of her neck. “Honey… Baby?” She cooed, rubbing circles on her girlfriend’s arms, “Baby, what’s wrong? Can I help?”

The fragile woman’s body shook harder after the question, her tears soaking into the crumpled newspaper she had clutched in her fists. After another moment of tears, she relinquished hold of the paper, letting Chryssie take it.

“Jim Gordon Released As Cops Catch Correct Killer.”

The couple were quiet for a moment before soft giggles started to rise from [Y/N]’s chest. Her giggles escalated in volume until she was practically howling with laughter until her cackles became so loud that they could no longer even be heard.

It was infectious. Both women found themselves on the floor in a fit of hysteria, eyes cinched shut against their own giddiness. Nearly five minutes passed before either of them spoke.

The previously crying woman was the first to break the silence. “... That’s a lot of alliteration…”

…

They erupted once more into peeling squawks of laughter, and laid there, on the floor, for nearly an hour, content to simply hold each other.

She had Edward’s mugshot framed later that evening, tucking it carefully away in the bathroom cabinet, and a celebration was planned for the next night.

All of her friends came - the ones she’d spent months avoiding, the ones she’d alienated. When asked what the sudden cause for cheer was, [Y/N] would only grin wider, would only speak louder - it was like weeks of damage and shame had been lifted from her shoulders.

Everyone was ecstatic to see the woman they once knew act like herself again. She was ecstatic to smile again. When the bane of your existence was under lock and key, what more reason did you need to throw a party?

She wrote a card to Jim, feeling forever grateful for his work in the force. It took her a few tries to get it just right - half of the rewrites were because of her tears staining the page. She couldn’t tell him the real reason, but she could congratulate him on his regained freedom.

God save Gotham if Gordon should ever fall like that again. The people should shudder at the thought.

[Y/N] was bustling with energy now that Edward had been detained - she felt like she could conquer the world. That was… Until the Adderall wore off.

She came down from that high pretty hard, finding herself blearily wandering her apartment after spending an ungodly amount of time wide-awake. The road to real recovery would be a long one, but it was nice to imagine, if only for a night, that she could feel like herself again. Chrysanthemum had flushed the leftover pills anyways.

Tiny steps, then. [Y/N] thought positively, or at least tried to. She figured that feeling down wouldn’t make her situation better. There were compulsions to avoid, paranoia to ignore - therapists to see, something she still refused to do.

The first item on her agenda was to visit someone she’d been meaning to see for far too long.

Solid, black leather boots sunk into the ground, her feet set firmly into the dark, damp earth, and her body turned towards the warm, grey headstone before her. The dirt, though it had begun to pack together, bore no grass, showcasing recently overturned soil. The woman’s face was solemn, her tongue twisted around itself as she searched for the right words to say.

After several minutes, [Y/N] spoke, voice bending and cracking with the weight of sorrow, “I’m sorry I… I didn’t come sooner, Kristen. I know how much punctuality meant to you. We were supposed to hang out… Several months ago.”

A cold breeze bit at the back of her neck, but she would not pull her hood up as if to punish herself for the negligence of her friend. “It’s my fault you’re here now - you know that, right?”

Her brow crinkled, feeling the stinging behind her eyes. She could almost hear Kristen yelling at her from behind the tombstone.

You know that’s not true. I wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for Edward.

She cringed, angling herself away from the grave just slightly, but the wind only served to draw more tears forward. It wasn’t fair. [Y/N] didn’t deserve to be so heartbroken, and her friend absolutely didn’t deserve to be swimming with the proverbial fishes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t by your side when you needed me. He is an evil man - I knew that and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you,” She said, her words becoming more and more strangled as she continued, “I should be in Arkham with the rest of the clinically insane - or at the very least in prison. I practically let him kill you. I let him murder my best friend.”

The babbling woman clutched a small, tin box in her hands, jostling inwardly with her guilt-ridden conscience. Stepping forward, she set the parcel just before the headstone, next to a few, stray, withered flowers. “I was going to bring you a bouquet, but I figured you’d appreciate this more.”

Fumbling, she opened the box, ignoring the teeth of winter air on her skin. Inside lies a newspaper clipping, showcasing Ed’s arrest, a small bag of generic, strawberry-flavored candies, a box of matches, a Beatles cassette tape, and a tube of chocolate pink lipstick.

“It’s cheesy, yeah, but I think about you a lot. The matches are because your hair is fiery, by the way,” She explained, laughing slightly at her own expense, but the moment of mirth only served to make her feel more empty as it passed, “... I should probably get going - before my hands freeze off. Oh!-”

[Y/N] moved with a start, digging in her purse for something. After many moments of struggle, she pulled out a small figurine, placing it with the rest of her gifts, before shutting the lid tight.

Laughter crept back into her body with the tears, and she shook with both as she rose to her feet. “It’s a Santa Claus doll, my dear Saint Nicholas! I know you would hate me for leaving that with you, but you’re not allowed to feel sorry for me - I’m still as rotten, inappropriate, and unfunny as I was when you were alive.”

Several more minutes went by, but the female finally got out her parting words, “I’ll be back again soon to leave you some actual flowers, and check on your grave. I know you’d want it tidy.”

“... I just have one thing to ask, and I know it’s a lot - the afterlife, if there is one, is probably very busy, but I need to borrow some of your strength.”

Her tone deepened as if trying to keep others from hearing her, “Please watch over me - protect me where I couldn’t protect you from this shithole city. Please forgive me for leaving you when it mattered most. Please help me recover from this - I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

With reluctance, she began to walk away, stopping only a second more to say goodbye, “You deserved so much better, Kristen Kringle. I love you to the end of the earth, and back again. Please sleep well.”

... Y’all, this is a whole lotta feelings, and not a lotta action. But fret not - I will return within a few days time to add to this narrative. I’ve got a ton of shit going down in part four. You’re not even ready. Leave me a request - I’ll pretty much take any! Tag me in your stuff, I’d love to read it! <3′ ALSO: looking for a beta reader. Message me if you’re interested. - writersindigestion

#edward nygma x reader #edward nygma fanfiction #edward nygma smut #riddler x reader #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #edward nygma #dc fanfiction #Cory Michael Smith #ed nygma #ed nygma x reader #ed nygma smut

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