You and Jerome had been dating for a while and it’d become increasingly clear that he had mommy issues. It should’ve been obvious from day one really but you hadn’t thought much of it. Sure he was a head taller but he always tucked himself under your chin or asked you to do things he was perfectly capable of doing by himself but you didn’t mind. It made you feel wanted.

Jerome, though cute, is not innocent and you are very much aware of that. You know about his Arkham stints, the murders he’s committed, his general insanity and unpredictability, and his possessive obsession with you though it didn’t deter you from loving him.

His mommy issues become more prominent when you started to get more tattoos over your body. First your arms, then your back, then your thighs and calves. All in black and white because Jerome loved to color them in when he felt fidgety.

Cut to now where the two of you are cuddling in a mess of limbs and blankets. Your leg out so you don’t overheat with how warm Jerome is by himself. His head on your chest as he traces your tattoos idly. Suddenly Jerome broke the silence, almost not aware of his own words.

“Mommy.. ya gonna get any more tattoos?”