#I miss watching him play Arkham to fall asleep

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 3: Bedside Manner

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: He really does worry about her too much.

Word Count: 3,282

Notes: This is so goddamn fluffy and soft you guys I don’t even know what to say. Takes place after Jonathan and Vanessa have started working at Arkham. For those curious, the exact procedure Vanessa gets in this is a bilateral salpingectomy, which is a removal of the fallopian tubes, often as a method of permanent birth control. I am not a doctor, so apologies for any medical inaccuracies. Warnings for references to surgery and tokophobia.   

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Jonathan kept an arm firmly around her as they walked up to their apartment building, being mindful of the small incisions in her stomach. Punching the button for the elevator, he rested a hand to her forehead, brows creased with worry.

“Relax, ‘m not gonna fall,” she mumbled, even as she leaned against him gratefully, still a little drowsy and wobbly on her feet from the anesthesia. He didn’t say a word, just pursed his lips and tightened his grip on her, ushering her into the elevator and pushing the number for their floor.

“Are you still dizzy?” he asked as they made their way down the hallway, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking the apartment door.

“A little,” she admitted. “Mostly just feel loopy, though.”

“Mm,” he locked the multiple locks on the door once they were inside and herded her towards the couch in the living room, helping her to settle against the cushions, reclining the seat for her and tucking a pillow under her head, grabbing the soft orange blanket folded over the back of the couch to wrap around her. “Are you hungry? Want me to get you something?”

“Not right now,” she yawned. 

“Tea?”

She wasn’t really that thirsty either, but he seemed to need something to do, else he would begin fussing.

“Sure.”

Cuddling the worn blanket closer to her, she watched with quiet fondness as he rushed away into the kitchen, fumbling with the kettle. He really did worry about her too much.

The surgery really wasn’t that big of a deal; and it had been something that she’d wanted to have done for years. To rid herself of the increasing anxiety that came with being riddled with diagnosable tokophobia.

Good-bye, fallopian tubes. You will not be missed.

It had been a thorough pain in the ass convincing someone to actually give her the procedure, but her calculated and carefully curated friendship–okay, friendship was a rather generous term, more like friendly acquaintance–with one of the surgeons who she’d gone to college with had helped her jump the line.

She really was dead lucky. Most people had to wait until they were at least thirty for the doctors to agree to jettison their tubes. Having Jonathan stand sternly in the darkest corner of the room with his most serious face during her consultations had probably helped.       

“Still feeling okay?” he asked, setting a mug of steaming tea carefully onto a coaster on the table next to her.

“Mhm. A little pain in my shoulders, but not too bad.”

“I could go get you a heating pad or something–” he made a move to head towards the hallway where the linen closet was, but she grabbed at the sleeve of his shirt before he could get too far away.

“What I want is to just lay here and nap and watch terrible sitcoms. I’m fine, okay? Don’t fuss. I know that you have work to do. If I need you, I’ll holler,” the office door was quite literally right there. She probably wouldn’t even need to actually yell for him to hear her. But still, Jonathan frowned, eyes looking her up and down. Vanessa sighed good naturedly. “Or, you could go get your work and come sit here next to me. If  that would make you feel better.”

He stroked the back of his hand along her cheek. “Okay.”

She waited until he got settled beside her, case notes on his lap and pen in hand, before she pressed the play button on the remote, snuggling down into the couch.

She was asleep before even thirty minutes had passed.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She woke up still on the couch. The television was on but outside it was dark. Her blanket was tucked up to her chin, and she was warm.

“Jonathan?” her eyesight was blurry, mind still half asleep. Curled up beside her, he stirred, immediately bending over her.

“You okay? Are you in pain?”

“No, ‘m okay,” she yawned. “A little hungry.”

“I’ll heat something up for you. What do you want?”

“We still have some of that chicken parm soup left?”

“I think so. You want that?”

“Yeah.”

He departed only briefly to get them both some soup, the microwave beeping and whirring as it worked. The soup steamed from the bowls, generous pieces of chicken and pasta floating in the watery red liquid.

“After you’ve eaten you can take your pain meds.”

“Okay,” she hadn’t even realized how ravenous she was until she scooped up the first mouthful, not even caring when she slightly burned her tongue. Her finished bowl was deposited onto the worn coffee table, swallowing her horse pills with a large gulp of water before curling back up onto the couch. Jonathan stretched out beside her.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“Yeah,” she lifted a hand to cover a yawn, squeaking when in one fluid motion she was off of the couch and cradled securely in his arms, being carried bridal style towards the bedroom. “I can walk!” she laughed, arms looping around his neck.

He settled her down very, very carefully onto the bed, rummaging around, dresser drawers squeaking as he gathered up both of their sets of pajamas. She changed sluggishly, realizing with every required movement just how exhausted and weak she felt. But that was normal; they had told her before the surgery that the first three or so days would be the hardest. Still, the feeling of being so physically vulnerable made her more nervous than she’d care to admit, suddenly incredibly grateful that Jonathan had taken the next several days off of work to take care of her.

“If you’re not tired, or need to get more work done that’s okay…” she mumbled as she got herself situated on the pillows. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed stubbornly, climbing into his spot beside her, long limbs folding gracefully into the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,”  he tucked a lock of long black hair behind her ear.

“If you’re sure…” the words were spoken even as she inched closer to him, humming as his arm wrapped around her, being careful not to put any pressure on her incisions. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in affirmation.

“Okay, then.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Nessa?”

She whined, head between her knees, legs curled towards her chest. The tile of the bathroom where she was sitting beside the toilet was cold. Jonathan took another cautious step into the little room, kneeling down beside her and gingerly touching her knee. She felt bad for not waking him. It had probably scared him a little; to have woken up without her beside him.

“Nauseous?”

She just nodded, taking a deep breath, as if that would somehow help settle her stomach. “Haven’t actually been sick, though.”

Shifting so that he was sitting beside her, he rubbed her back. “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

“No. It’s not that bad,” squirming a bit, she groaned. “Shoulders hurt more this morning too.”

“I’m sorry.”

She just shrugged. These were all normal side effects, nothing to be too concerned about yet. But they still sucked.

Stretching his head around to check the time on the clock hanging from the wall, Jonathan huffed. “You can’t take your pain meds without eating something.”

She groaned softly at the suggestion of food, stomach writhing. Jonathan increased the circles he was rubbing into her back.

“Once you’re outside of the twenty-four hour window, the nausea should get better. Think you could handle some crackers?”

“I can try.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he kissed her on the top of the head, disappearing in the kitchen and returning with a sleeve of saltines. Suppressing a gag, she took one from him, nibbling on it tentatively. He pressed his warm side up against hers, watching carefully as she slowly ate one cracker after another. The food seemed to actually help, the nausea abating, if only slightly.

They waited until they were confident that she wasn’t going to throw the crackers back up before she took her painkillers.

“Let’s go back to bed. It won’t be good for your pain to sit on the hard floor like this.”

“I might puke on you,” she warned, even as she let him pull her slowly to her feet and guide her back to the bedroom.

“That’s okay.”

She still insisted that he put a trash can next to her side of the bed. Just in case. It took her a long time to fall back to sleep, the nausea and persistent pain in her shoulders from the gas keeping her up. But Jonathan stayed up with her, rubbing her shoulders and kissing her temple until she finally dozed off.

When she woke up, she took one look at Jonathan, who was sitting up in bed beside her, one arm still around her while the other balanced a book in front of him, and promptly burst into tears.

“Vanessa?” the second he heard her sniffling the book was slammed shut and deposited on the bedside table, hand reaching for her as he tried to discern what was wrong. “Are you in pain?”

She just shook her head furiously, burying her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just–” she sniffled. “You’re always so nice to me!” she wailed finally, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her head in his chest. She felt Jonathan stiffen, probably in very much a ‘oh shit, she’s crying what do I do’ type of way, before hesitantly raising his arms to rub her back.

“Okay, um. That’s–uh…it’s no problem?” he stuttered, patting her head awkwardly. Pressing her forehead into his chest, she sniffled, once, taking in a deep, shaking breath–owwww, it hurt to do that–before pulling back enough that she could wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. As quick as the sudden bout of emotion had come it seemed to be gone.

“Sorry. I don’t–I don’t know where that came from.”

“It’s okay,” his hand was still resting warmly on her back. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Mhm,” blinking, she looked around the room in a daze. “Not nauseous anymore either.”

“That’s good.”

“Well,” she sighed–again, ow–and ran a hand through her hair. “That was weird.”

“Probably just post-op blues.”

“Probably.”

“How’s the pain?”

“More than yesterday, but not that bad.”

“Tomorrow it will likely be the worst.”

“Mm,” she laid her head on his chest. “More fun to look forward to. What were you reading?”

He lifted the book so that she could see the cover.

“Oooo. Nice.”

“Want me to read it to you?” he asked, opening it back up to his bookmark, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Actually, yeah.”   

 Cheek warm thanks to being pillowed against his chest, she let the sound of his voice settle her, working like a balm over her aching bones. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Just as Jonathan had predicted, she woke up on the third day in agony.

“Jonathan,” she barely managed to get his name out, nearly doubling over. He was still asleep beside her. Whimpering, she pawed at his chest desperately. “Jonathan.”

He woke up fast, asleep one moment and all but shooting up, eyes open wide, in the next.

“What is it?” he bent over her, hands cupping her face.

“Hurts,” was all she managed to get out. He was up and out of bed in a second, rushing to the kitchen and returning with another sleeve of crackers, the bottle of painkillers, and a glass of water.

“Here,” he gave her the crackers first, shaking a pill out into his palm as she shoved a few in her mouth. While she swallowed it down he checked her incisions under her loose pajama shirt, then climbed back in beside her. “It’s okay,” he soothed, gathering her up into his chest, letting her cling to him as they both waited for the pain to subside. “It’s okay.”

But she could hear his heart hammering fast as a hummingbird’s wings in his chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder which of them in that moment was more scared.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She managed to sleep through most of the third day, and woke up on the fourth feeling much better. And while Jonathan still insisted on doing most things for her–cooking food, fetching water, and god forbid he catch her trying to lift something even moderately heavy–she felt far more capable than she had the previous few days. The pain in her belly and shoulders was manageable, and even the feelings of exhaustion and weakness were starting to abate. A good thing, too, since once the weekend was over he would have to go back to work. She still had another week off to recover, but she would have to fend for herself while he was away during the day.

That shouldn’t be a problem, so long as she continued to improve. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

He was going to drive her insane.

Okay, more insane than she already was.

Because despite her consistent improvements each day that passed from the surgery, Jonathan wouldn’t let her do anything. No matter how much she insisted that she felt fine, he insisted on remaining close to her, checking her vitals regularly and fussing over every little thing.

“What are you doing up?”

Oh, come on.

“I was just getting a glass of water–”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he swooped over, plucking the empty glass from her hands.

“I don’t think that walking the three steps from the living room to the kitchen is gonna cause me to keel over, babe.”

He pointed to the couch sternly. “Go lay back down.”

“Okay, okay, geez,” she shuffled back to the couch, plopping down and pouting. “Dr. Crane is mean.”

“He wouldn’t need to be if Dr. Sullivan wasn’t known for overexerting herself.”

“Oh my god, that was one time–”

“You tried to go to the kickboxing gym one day after you were diagnosed with a concussion.”

Huffing dramatically, she pulled her blanket back up to her chin. “Your bedside manner needs work.”

“My bedside manner is excellent.” 

“Jonathan, we did our residencies together. I’ve seen you interact with difficult patients.”

He came over to the couch with her water. “Name one time that I was unreasonable when working with patients.”

“You prescribed high dosage sedatives for a woman because she kept flirting with you!”

“Nes, that was you.”

She blinked. “Oh, was it? Damn.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“Okay, but I know it was you who gave one of the patients a hallucinogen because he sneezed on you.”

Jonathan shrugged. “I was just teaching him basic manners. You cover your nose when you sneeze, everyone knows that.”

Vanessa snorted out a giggle, reaching back to cup his face and kiss him chastely on the lips. When they parted, she huffed, blowing a raspberry. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m bored.”

“You have your book.”

“I finished it already,” she grumbled, glancing at the well loved copy of ‘Salem’s Lot on the coffee table. “I miss work.”

“You remember what the surgeon said…”

“Yeah, I know. I know,” she slumped back onto the couch, looking around her at the pile of finished books, her sketchbook open to a half finished, detailed still life drawing of a pumpkin, and the dozens of tiny little paper origami cranes, boats, and flowers scattered around her. Jonathan slipped carefully into the spot beside her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She snuggled into his side, pouting.

“Maybe…when I go back to the asylum, I can bring you some of your case notes to work on,” he suggested. Vanessa tilted her head up to look at him.

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Stretching up, she pecked his cheek. “Thank you.”

He looked down, blushing and stuttering. It was cute how even after how long they’d been together, he still got so flustered sometimes when she showered him with her affection.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The discomfort was mostly minimal now. She didn’t need the painkillers prescribed by the doctor anymore, ibuprofen more than sufficient in treating her pain. Assuming that everything remained fine, she would probably be able to return to work the next week.

Jonathan had gone back to work two days ago, confident enough that she could fend for herself for the hours he was gone without dying. Though he’d still been all nervous and jittery about leaving her alone the first day. Truth be told, she’d missed him when he was gone, insistent fussing and all.

He’d brought her some of her case notes to work on, finally providing a bit of relief from the boredom of being bound to the couch all hours of the day.

She had her legs curled up underneath her, pen twirling absentmindedly in her hand as she looked over the papers spread out in front of her. At the sound of keys sliding into the door her head perked up, lips tugging upwards as Jonathan pushed his way into the apartment, clicking the locks into place behind him and dropping his briefcase down by the door before coming over to the couch to kiss her.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Is it raining outside?” she asked, taking note of the slight dampness coating his hair.

“Only a little,” he lifted the bag he had dangling from one hand. “I brought food.”

Stacking her notes into a neat pile, she tossed them onto the coffee table. “I love you.”

Jonathan chuckled, placing another kiss to her cheek and leaving the food with her to be unwrapped as he shucked off his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair, loosening his tie and tossing that away as well, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. Vanessa bit her lip, silently lamenting that she was banned from any funny business for at least another week or so. 

As soon as he was on the couch, she handed him his food, settling her own container from the bag in her lap and scooting closer to him, cozying up to his side.

“I missed you,” her lips pressed insistently to his cheek, where a dimple sometimes appeared when he smiled. Jonathan shot her a look that she could only describe as soft, leaning into her touch.

“I missed you too,” his hand stroked over her thigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Still a little tired, I guess.”

“Hm,” he hummed, reclining back against the couch, pulling her with him until she was nestled close to his side.

“How was work?” she asked around a mouthful of her pasta, twisting another helping carefully around her fork.

“Alright. A few people asked about you. Johnson had another episode and almost swallowed his own tongue. They’re keeping him in the infirmary for a while.”

“Oh, well. At least he didn’t die, the paperwork would have been a nightmare.”

His snicker sounded low and deep in his chest, hand stroking through the long, loose locks of her hair. They switched on the TV, eating in comfortable silence as they listened to the gentle hum of the voices from the speakers. Containers of food discarded, she ended up with her arms wrapped around his ribs, her head pillowed on his chest as they just lounged, eyelids growing heavy.

“Jonathan?” she poked him suddenly in the shoulder, rousing him from the slight doze he had slipped into.

“What?”

Tracing nonsense patterns into his chest, she shrugged. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

His thumb stroked along her jaw, tilting her head upwards so that he could peck her on the lips. 

“Always.”

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[liquid-luck-00]

Little!Mari

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 12: Little!Mari

@biodad-bruce-month

Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

Sorry this is late I’ll be late for a bit as I try and catch back up, hopefully.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was back in Wayne Manor for the winter holidays. And just like every morning she was awake before almost everyone else. Granted she just came back from patrol and it was already too late to fall sleep.

She had noticed she was running low on transformation macaroons for Tikki, so she decided to make a batch. And she did but she may have fallen asleep after placing the Macarons in Tikki‘s designated cookie jar, accidentally leaving out a couple of the potions.

Jason was the one to find her and noticed that she was asleep so he moved her to her room. So that got the boys to talking. They wanted to make sure that this was the best Christmas break ever, as it was their first Christmas together, so what better way to make their youngest sibling smile like the little sunshine she is, than to surprised her with baked goods like she always does with them.

Surprisingly it was Bruce who stepped up to the plate. Granted everyone kind of just stared at him. Alfred’s expression was a mix of shock and horror. Shock because Bruce was in the kitchen and asking Alfred where a list of ingredients were. Horror because Bruce was in the kitchen and it seemed as if he was going to cook. By the time it seemed he had all his ingredients in front of him Bruce looked up and noticed them all staring.

“Is something wrong” Bruce asked with a completely straight face.

“Yes!!!” Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian all yelled..

Alfred, oh poor Alfred, seemed to be close to fainting as he was probably imagining the mess that was going to be occurring. “ Master Bruce what are you about to make.” Alfred asked.

“Brownies”

“Sir where did you learn of the recipe you are to be using?”

“From Mini”

Once they all knew that the recipe was from Mari, they begin to work, still eyeing him warily.

"Vanilla has anyone seen it?"

"There it is Little Bat must have left it out" Dick handed Bruce the vid that was labeled with the letter 'V' and had a violet cap from a line of vials.

They finished the batter and Alfred set it in the oven.

"That went better than the last time" Bruce sighed as they left the kitchen.

"Now I need to know" Jason stopped Bruce looking straight at him. "When the hell have you baked, and what happened the last time ?"

"same occasion, the same day I met Marinette, she took out the ingredients left and I started making the recipe." He looked at his boys and they were silent for once, giving him their undivided, attention. "And I ended up covered in flour." With that he left.

---

Mari woke up a couple of hours later and heard a knock on the door.

"Breakfast will be served soon Miss" Alfred called.

"Thank you Alfred" she returned rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She got dressed and went down. Everyone was already at the table and they all ate relatively peacefully.

"And finally the masters have made you brownies Miss Mari" Alfred stated setting a plate of brownies in front of her.

"You guys. Thank you." I took two from the plate and handed one to Tikki. "Yummy" that was when there were two flashes.

---

"Mari" several voices shouted looking where she was previously sitting.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no" they heard Tikki but could not see her.

"Tikki, what is going on?" Bruce finally asked.

"Humans aren't..." that was when she began to grow in front of them. "humans shouldn't have transformation potions" She looked around, and so did everyone else. That was when they saw the blue eyes and black hair peeking over the table at them.

"Mini are you okay" Bruce tried asking softly.

"Dad" she called out running over to him. At least she still remembers we are family.

"Mari what is the last thing you remember" he asked her, she was curled up in his lap.

She shook her head. "I don't know everything is fuzzy"

"Hey there Bluebell" she turned to face Jason, who sounded to be the calmest at the table. "Do you remember us?"

She seemed to study them all. "Jay or Red" she faced Jason.

"Bluebell" he responded with a smile.

"Dick or Blue" she faced Dick.

"Little Bat" he smiled and she giggled.

"Tim or Genius" she was now smiling at Tim.

"That's right Bean" he gave a nod and yawn but she laughed at his actions.

"Damian or Qamri" she was now looking at Damian.

"Correct mon Sol" His second youngest said giving her a rare smile.

She then turned towards Alfred "Grandpa Alfie" she was now smiling and bubbly, while Alfred seemed close to loosing his composure at being called Grandpa. He simply nodded his head and gave her a smile.

"Tikki how long do you think this will last?" Bruce asked.

"I'm not completely sure" she responded.

"Fairy!" Mari cried looking at Tikki smiling. Tikki giggled.

"Well there is only one thing to do then" Dick clapped his hands a large smile spread on his face.

Tim seemed to suddenly wake up completely, Damian was eyeing him suspiciously a scowl now on his lips, and Jason well "I'm out, I am not getting caught up in any of your insane plans." he started to rise out of his seat.

"Come on Jay let's have a family fun day. We didn't know Mari when she was, how old are you right now little bat."

She scrunched her nose and furrowed her brows "Um nine if think" she finally responded.

"See we need to be with her" Dick began to plead, giving him puppy eyes.

"Please Red" Marinette looked at him giving him her own puppy eyes.

"Ugh how can I say no to those puppy eyes"

"Works every time" Dick answered.

"Not yours" Jason responded, Dick appeared hurt. "so what's first?"

"Puppies" Mari cooed as Titus and Ace entered the room.

"let's go outside then" Damian stated reaching out for Mari's hand. She readily took it and they walked out, the rest of the family following soon after.

---

The majority of the morning was spent playing with Ace and Titus as well as a very difficult game of hide and seek within the manor.

By lunch she was in the kitchen alongside Alfred. After which, everyone had to deal with an Arkham breakout. So Mari wandered the cave while Alfred manned the comms. She ended up on Dick's gymnastic equipment. Once everyone was back they found out she was on the trapeze.

"Blue your back!" she yelled in mid flight. As she landed she turned and again yelled. "Come and fly with me Azur"

Dick began to move towards the ladder when Bruce grabbed his shoulder.

"I think it's best you come down" he called up to her.

"But"

"She's a natural B just a few minutes" Dick stated as he climbed the ladder.

A few minutes turned into two hours. After a bath she was curled up in the library next to Jason as he gave a dramatic reading of the Odyssey.

That was where they stayed all afternoon until Alfred called them for dinner. After which Mari dragged Tim to the living room to make a blanket fort to end all forts. Where she proceeded to tuck her brother under several blankets to get him to sleep.

All five of them ended up watching Disney Movies all night. Where they all fell asleep in the fort.

---

"Why are we in a blanket fort?" Marinette questioned the next morning.

"Mari go back to sleep" Jason grumbled next to her.

"Jay?" she asked out finally waking up. "Dick? Tim? Damian? What how?"

"Breakfast will be ready shortly" Alfred called from outside the fort.

A chorus of ‘Ok Alfred's’ were heard from inside the blankets.

Her and her brothers all got up and went to prepare for the day, and when they sat for breakfast she was still confuse Id.

"What happened yesterday?” she asked. Everyone shared a look and began to laugh.

"Would you prefer the photos or the videos?" Alfred asked and everyone seemed to laugh even harder.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

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[bartistic]

@redrobinperiodt requested Tim Drake Angst so here we go

- - - - -

CW: Panic Attack, blood, injury, head injury, Joker, self-loathing

Tim felt sick to his stomach as the night rolled and tossed around him. He was breathing very hard— possibly, no, probably on the verge of a panic attack. He clenched his fists, which seemed stuck to his sides. Okay, five things you can see—

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. Not just pitch black, but darker. True, deep, nothingness black. With his mask on, though, he couldn’t tell whether he was blinded, blindfolded, or simply in a very dark room.

He could vaguely feel his limbs, which could be a good or bad sign. He couldn’t remember whether it ought to be a good or bad sign. With a numb hand he attempted to reach up to his face to check for a blindfold, but doubled over in pain as his arms met ropes instead. The movement stretched a wound he didn’t know he had, slick wet fluid making his clothes tacky.

Or maybe the fluid was something else entirely? Now that he was more tuned in, he noticed the smell. It was hard to believe he hadn’t noticed it before— the invasive and sluggish stench of Gotham’s sewers. He shifted his feet, hearing a soft and wet shlop echo through the wide chambers. He could hear the dripping of the condensation now, and the bustle of the city outside. Was it daytime? Tim couldn’t recall. He couldn’t hear anything out of the usual for the sewers... Killer Croc was still in Arkham, last time he checked, and without him the sewers were a relatively quiet, if definitely toxic, affair.

So the question remained: why was he in the sewers? He couldn’t recall how he got there— wracking his brain, the last memory he could think of was leaving to patrol. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually saw any of his family outside of uniform... He had his own apartment now. Where he could be a slob in peace, and not have to worry about sharing the coffee pot.

Shifting his arms served a dual purpose— it helped him to attempt to shimmy out of his bonds, gasping in pain all the while, and to feel the rope itself. The knot was surprisingly easy to loosen... suspiciously easy, in fact. With his arms free, Tim reached for his face, careful to mind the wound on his side.

He was relieved to find a blindfold tied securely over his mask. It was giving him a bit of a headache, actually, so it was a relief to pull it down. He carefully brushed past a tender bump that was sticky with blood.

Tim blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light— dim light, for sure, but enough to confirm his surroundings. He looked down at his feet. They were padlocked together, with a literal ball and chain attached and sitting in the muck a few feet away. He leaned back against the wall, which was moist (as expected. Ew.), and slid down the grungy bricks into a squat. Taking the lock picks out of his mask, he began to work at picking the padlock. With a finger, he absentmindedly brushed his hair out of the way behind his ear.

His ear, which ought to have a comms unit in it. Why didn’t it?

Breaking free of the lock he lifted a foot to step forward, but was stopped by a cackle. A familiar cackle.

A laugh familiar to any Gothamite, and more than familiar to any Bat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little birdie. A ha ha. Hee hee. OOH HOO HOO HOO we— we wouldn’t want to spoil the main event before we even got ready now would we? No, ha, we want to wait for the rest of the little birdies to come along and play before we can BLOW YOU ALL SKY HIGH AH ha HEE HEE,”

Sure enough, as Tim looked beneath the grime under his feet, he could see a pressurized plate. A mine, that would go off if he even shifted his balance too much to the side. There was a countdown on it as well, set to 18 mins and 20 seconds. 19 seconds. 18 seconds.

Tim was suddenly very glad he had only shifted his feet a little bit earlier, and while picking the lock.

“That is... if they even come for you. I don’t see, ha, why they’d care about such a miserable little bird! Look,” the Joker attempted to pout as he came prancing into view, “his poor wings are all soggy. Naughty naughty oil slicks, gooping up the birdies wings so they can’t fly! HAHAHA!” He leaned in close to Tim, using his hands to lift the sides of his cape, drenched in raw sewage, and flapping them. Tim stiffened slightly, preparing to attack, but the Joker stepped back, holding a small remote in his hand. “Ooh, good one boy blunder! You switch places with me, and I’ll press this lil button here! It does just the HA the funniest thing, y’see... it’ll set off a nice little chain reaction that will make the whole sewer go BOOM! HA HA HEE HA!” Joker pranced around, kicking sewage everywhere, splattering onto the walls, onto Tim, even onto his own purple suit. “Now let’s see. How shall we pass the time while we wait for dear old Daddy Bats to realize you’re missing? I think we ought to have a few days or so... HA! I ought to have a few days. You, ha, don’t have that much time, babybird.” Tim wasn’t sure where the clown had heard that nickname, but it made him sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was just the almost certain concussion. “Now how about a game of Go Fish?” Joker pulled a deck of cards out of his suit pocket. He shuffled them haphazardly, most of them falling into the lazy brown river below. They were all Jokers.

Tim’s attention was brought back to the man himself as the clown roughly grasped his hand, forced it open, and placed in it a hand of cards. Then with the same about of force, he shut the hand. Tim let out a stuttered inhale at the pain in his side. “Now, do you know how to play Go Fish?” Tim glared, but didn’t say anything. “So what you’re HA gonna do is, you’re gonna say a card. Like this:” he did a nasally, whiny imitation of Tim’s voice, “Do you have any sevens, Mr. Joker sir? And then *I* get to say NO!” He cackled and shoved Tim’s head all the way into the ground, through the sewage. Hard. Tim sputtered and flailed and desperately tried to keep balance as a spindly yet strong hand held his head in place. It was like a more tortuous version of the swirlies he’d never had to endure, but had heard about on the internet. “Go fish! A HA HA HEE HOO HEH. You’re no fun.” Tim’s head lolled on his neck, feeling too heavy to hold up. “I’m going to go hunt down some more friends for us to play with, alrighty? Have fun while I’m gone! Or don’t. HEE HEE HA HOO HOO!” The Joker kicked tim’s head from where he was kneeling on the ground. Then he left.

Tim’s thoughts were swirling, much like the muck they were surrounded by. It had to be daytime by now, surely Bruce and the others would have noticed he was missing. But would they? Asked another part of his brain. You’re the forgotten Robin, the unimportant one, you’re not even a real part of the family. Dick created the role, Jason died for it, Damian was born for it, what were you? Were you even needed? You just shoved yourself into their lives and everything became all the worse because of it. When’s the last time you’ve spoken to them, any of them? They don’t want to even be near you. They all hate you. They’ve noticed you’re gone alright, but whatever would make them want to come find you?

Tim settled onto the plate. 10 minutes, 57 seconds. He closed his eyes and tried to not think.

He didn’t know how long it was until he heard voices again.

“Hey assholes, I found him! He’s over here! He’s... oh fuck Timmy, that’s a lot of blood. You’re okay. Batman apprehended the bastard. I’ll kill him for you later though, okay babybird?” Tim shuddered at the nickname, letting out what could be called a whimper. “We got you, we’re taking you home.” Home. What was home. The manor? He looked up, head swaying. Red Hood was crouched in front of him, hands out in a placating gesture. He was flickering at the edges. Great, a caffeine-withdrawal-induced hallucination.

“No... y’ can’t...” He mumbled under his breath, his voice scratchy and dry-feeling. “Y’r not real. Y’r not coffee.” Jason— the hallucination— looked concerned. Tim felt a pressure on his head. He yelped. “G’t away... Y’ll set off th’ bomb...” The hallucination-possible-not-a-hallucination-jason cussed. Tim let out a soft huff of laughter. Who knew his imagination was so colorful.

“B, there’s a bomb here. We need immediate extraction and medical for Red Robin, I’ll do what I can to defuse it.”

“Pr’ssure Plate...” Tim murmured before he was under once more. And then there was shouting, and slapping of his face, which made his neck hurt and his face sting.

“No, you are not falling asleep on me! Dammit B, get here now!” Tim had never been the best at following orders. And he was running on no caffeine. He was going to take a nap now, and nobody could stop him.

Flashes.

Strong arms holding him, carrying him through the sewers.

Shouting from someone who sounded a lot like Dick, but that was impossible, because Dick wasn’t there.

Strong arms holding him, loading him into a car, careful of his head.

A squeeze from a small hand. “You are not going to die by the hand of that clown, Drake, I will not allow it.”

Pressure on his stomach, overwhelming pressure and pain and he was jackknifing and fighting whoever was pressing on his wound and there was more screaming but this screaming was him.

Finally, a steady beeping. He opened his eyes, then immediately shut them again. Too bright. He wished he had his Robin shades. He snuffled his nose and heard a noise in return. Someone at his bedside, then. He grunted. There was a gasp.

“Too bright. H’rts.” He watched from behind his eyelids as the flourescent lights were turned off with a click. Then he hazarded opening his eyes again. Bruce was sitting, asleep in a chair by the side of the bed, clearly in a very uncomfortable position. Tim had no doubts he’d had worse. At the door were Dick, Duke, and Stephanie. They looked as if they wanted to talk to him but didn’t want to risk waking a sleeping batman. Damian was at the light switch. Tim was officially confused. Fuck the sleeping Batman, he wanted answers. “J’ker?”

Dick scowled. “Arkham. Although he definitely won’t be out again for a while after Hood’s through with him.”

Cass spoke up from the other side of the room, “Wheelchair.”

Tim nodded. “Bomb?”

“It was a dud.” Tim frowned. That made no sense. Also, they were definitely hiding something.

“How long w’s i out?”

“4 days. You flatlined two times. Between the wound in your side getting infected by fucking sewage water and your memory-hazy brain injury, it’s a miracle you survived.” Steph looked angry. Then she began to cry. “You asshole! You almost died!” She looked as if she wanted to either hug him or punch him, but neither were a feasible option for the moment, so she settled on sniffing angrily at her tears and then purposely walking out. “I’m going to go make coffee. For myself.”

————

whoo boy that’s all i got in me tonight. thanks for the request lol!

[watchtower-feed]

Waynesitter’s Runaway Bats

✧ Sometimes your job requires you to go on little excursions to drag back some family runaways. And when Alfred says little, it means Bruce intends for you to borrow the Batmobile.

✧ “Uhh… Thanks. But I’ll just use Tim’s Prius.”

✧ “Y/N, I insist.”

✧ “Mr. Wayne. I’d rather be bringing home your son and not another Arkham escapee.”

✧ Sometimes the others tag along with you when they’re awake, still alive, or generally just bored.

✧ “Oh my god, Tim. You have the worst songs.”

✧ “Apart from being dead weight in my car, Jason, what else are you good for?”

✧ “Tch. Y/N, Jason brought a gun again.”

✧ “Jason, I swear to god if you fire that gun you better shoot me first.”

✧ Whenever Dick runs away, he always goes to Amusement Mile, Gotham’s entertainment district, where Haley’s Circus used to be. When something really bad happens, Dick would actually leave town to follow the Circus’ tour. But for now, you pull over by the boardwalk.

✧ “Stay in the car.”

✧ “What if there’s trouble?”

✧ “I’ll light up a bat signal.”

✧ “Harhar, Y/N.”

✧ You quickly find Dick inside the large tent just sitting in the middle of the ring. He always greets you with a sheepish smile and pursed lips.

✧ “Time to go back already?”

✧ “I have two volatile children and Tim stuck in a Prius so…”

✧ Dick laughs and slowly gets up. “Okay.” When he reaches you, he stops and rests his head on your shoulder. You hear him sigh and quietly say, “I don’t know what I’m doing, Y/N. I’m no leader.”

✧ It’s one of those days. One when all the responsibility is on Dick’s shoulders and he feels like no one taught him how to be an adult. Not his parents. Not Bruce or Alfred. He still feels like a child. Most of the time you think he’s more a child than Damian. But the innocent kind. Not the murder you in your sleep kind. Or the annoying brat kind in general.

✧ “Y/N.”

✧ “Oh, sorry. I spaced out.”

✧ “Y/N!” he chuckles, “this is supposed to be the part where you say something that’ll motivate me to do the right thing.”

✧ “The right thing? I don’t even know the difference between laundry detergent and fabric conditioner. They both just clean clothes, right?” 

✧ He laughs. “Right.”

✧ “But Dick… No one’s ever going to say the exact thing you need to hear because only you know what that is. You just have to be patient with yourself and continue to listen to your gut. The fact that you’re here means you feel like you did something wrong. So it’s time to go and fix it.”

✧ As far as your speeches go, persuading Dick to go home is the easiest. But when it comes to Tim, you need to be a bit more creative. Or diabolical.

✧ “Uh, Robin. Your babysitter’s here to see you.”

✧ “Don’t let--”

✧ “Thanks, Beast Boy. Next time you’re in Gotham I’ll give you a tour of the cave. Oh hey, Tim. Fancy seeing you here.”

✧ “You’re in San Francisco. You’re at the Titans Tower. You know I would be here.”

✧ “Really? But why would you be all the way here when they need you in Gotham? BB just told me--”

✧ “BB??”

✧ “-- that the other Titans are home for the summer. Like you should be. Suspicious.”

✧ “Why are you here, Y/N?”

✧ You smile and take out a small folder from your bag. “I need help with Chemistry--”

✧ “Chemistry? You’re a lit maj-- Wait a minute… These are the compounds for Scarecrow’s fear toxin.”

✧ “Nope. Look at the bonding element.”

✧ “... It’s... It’s a mutation of Joker’s laughing gas!”

✧ Of course, once you get back, you’ll tell Tim you just fudged elements together and you’re surprised and proud of yourself for making up a whole new deadly chemical. By then, Damian or Jason is ready to apologize to Tim just like you practiced.

✧ On the other side of the spectrum, the least bat you have to worry about is Cass. Whenever she goes missing it’s the only time you volunteer to bring a Wayne back. Only because you always find her sitting on your couch hugging a bowl of popcorn.

✧ “What series are we binging tonight, Y/N?”

✧ “Legends of Tomorrow? It’s about a group of misfit superheroes who fixes history. You might recognize a few costumes.”

✧ Cass recognizes all of them. Sometimes you forget that Cass isn’t a civilian and she’s even more of a vigilante than the boys. That this is what most her life has been and she has no inclination to quit it.

✧ “Can I live with you?”

✧ “You can’t, Cass. You’ll know all my bad habits and then you won’t want to be my friend.”

✧ “You’re more than a friend, Y/N. You’re family.”

✧ “Oh god. I mean no offense, Cass. I love you, but the only reason you’re always trying to kill each other is because you’re family. I don’t want to be in your Lord of the Flies.”

✧ Cass doesn’t really get it. “They know every bad thing about me… but they still want me.”

✧ “Oh.”

✧ Cass is the most observant person you know. She knows exactly how the family feels about her and they would move Earths for her. But having never experienced any kind of love growing up and then jumping into their unconditional love, it shocks you and leaves you anxious about the day when the dream is over.

✧ “You can live with me one day but you gotta pay rent. I’m not letting you mooch off of me.”

✧ Cass smiles at you. You turn back to the TV and she curls up beside you all night before you take her home in the morning.

✧ Jason’s another one that’s easy to find. He always holes up in his own apartment because no one in his family would dare bother him there when he’s in a mood. This is one of those moments when you’re glad you’re not family.

✧ “Open up, Zombie boy!”

✧ “When are you going to stop calling me that?”

✧ “When you go to a derma and finally get rid of those autopsy scars. Seriously, Jason, they’re unsettling.”

✧ Jason touches his chest and then stays quiet the whole time you settle yourself in his apartment. With Jason, there are no words or tricks to play. Whenever he’s seen too much of the family he just needs time and distance. You’re only there to shorten that time and make sure the distance stays within city limits.

✧ “Can you sing it again?”

✧ But Jason makes you pay the highest price. Ever since he heard you whistle and sing The Dancing and the Dreaming from How to Train Your Dragon 2, he always asks you to sing it when he’s not particularly feeling high on his horse. So how could you refuse?

✧ “Sure. But could we not do a duet this time? It makes me feel like we’re having a Viking wedding.”

✧ “Damian would love that.”

✧ It’s bad. If Jason doesn’t fight you for that duet and just wants to close his eyes and listen, then something really bad happened. So you sing while you watch Jason relax in his chair. You maintain a slow tempo throughout the whole song.

✧ When Jason finally opens his eyes, tears slip through. He’s staring at you with wide eyes and he touches his cheeks, wondering why they’re wet. Your lips quiver and you bite them before you approach Jason and wipe his cheeks.

✧ “Was my singing that bad?”

✧ Jason blows on your face and laughs even though he’s still crying.

✧ You didn’t really know what to do when Alfred told you Damian ran back home. Isn’t this his home? But when you’re strapped in the batplane with the Batman, especially since he’s also your boss, you can’t really opt out anymore.

✧ “Mr. W-- Er Batman? Is it really smart to bring civilian me to the base of one of your mortal enemies?”

✧ “The League knows all of our identities--”

✧ “Yeah, but I think I’d feel a lot safer in a bullet-proof costume like yours. No offense.”

✧ “They use swords here, Y/N.”

✧ “Oh… kevlar can’t stop that?”

✧ When you arrive, the fortress is even more intimidating and terrifying than you imagined. You stick close to Batman, clutching his cape, and warily eye the assassins clad in all black, stationed at almost every corner.

✧ “It sort of feels like the cave. Maybe if you trained more bats, you can finally get some sleep or go to your 10 AM meetings.”

✧ Batman can’t suppress his grin. “Do you really want more of them to take care of?”

✧ “I would quit. Or make you quadruple my salary.”

✧ When you finally see Damian after several days of his disappearance, you forget yourself and run to him, only to be met with the hilt of a sword an inch away from your neck.

✧ Damian’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s you and drops his sword. He looks horrified. Quickly forgetting your own shock, you bend down and pick him up to hold him tight in your arms. You can feel him sobbing against your shoulder.

✧ “Beloved. I see you’ve started involving your servants in your crusade.”

✧ “Don’t be jealous, Talia. She’s only family.”

✧ “Damian,” you whisper. “Ready to go home? I might need your help in stopping Bruce from adopting me.”

✧ Damian sniffs. “That mustn’t happen if we’re going to be married in the future.”

✧ You don’t leave Damian’s side until you get back to the manor. You stay later just to lie beside him in his bed until he falls asleep. You’re brushing his hair when a thought comes to you. “You know, in the future, maybe run away to Paris. I hear they have an old cave network there. It might take me days or weeks to bring you home.”

✧ Damian scoffs and smiles. He turns to his other side, away from you. “Y/N, I’m trying to sleep.”

✧ “Yeah, but think about it okay? What are you doing tomorrow?”

Notes: Here’s that version of the song YN sings to Jason. Fair warning, it’s a Drarry animation.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 11 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

This part has the most character development for our Commander here. the good stuff is about to begin. BUCKLE UP.

WORDS: 3356 WARNINGS: DEATH. AND JASON FLUFF BECAUSE WE ALL NEED THAT

Masterlist

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

The sun never shined this brightly into her room before.

Beauty. Perfection.  Bewitching, captivating beauty.

Y/N couldn’t help but run a finger across his stubble. Jason was still asleep, facing her. He never looked so peaceful with his mouth slightly parted and the muscles on his face relaxed. It was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.

It was like waking up in a lone bed by a lake. A clear, turquoise lake with a silent waterfall at the far back. With so much green around her, she couldn’t breathe any speck of corrupted air. There would be no one else but her, and she’d jumped into the cool waters. Nothing else in her mind, but the feel of it calming her skin.

She didn’t want to get up. Not even if she needed to.

And today, she really needed to.

Today, the wretched, horrible day.

October 31st.

Their last day at the barracks in Venezuela. By noon, they’d have cleared the building. By sundown, all units should have boarded the jets.

By 19:00 tonight, they arrive at Gotham.

But Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason. He was still asleep. She didn’t want to just wake him up. The last time he spent the night, she woke up alone in a wrecked bed.

Jason’s eyes slowly parted open, and immediately, he smiled at the sight of her like she was the sun.

God, he had her heart in such a twist.

Y/N inched nearer to him and placed the softest kiss on his lips. He groaned, with the same sexy voice he always had after waking up.

And it was like the waterfall fell harder into the lake, the sounds becoming more eminent and the water so much colder, sinking into her flesh.

He reached for her hair, letting her locks tangle into his fingers. Y/N closed her eyes with her nose touching his lips. Jason kissed her again, and very slightly pulled away.

“I’d love stay in, but we have to go,” she reluctantly said.

It was over too soon. The five minutes she had, an escape from who she was, what she had to do to live. This was all it was. He nodded and sat up. Jason swung his legs over the bed and grabbed his pants on the floor.

Y/N did the same, walking over to her closet and picking out a fresh set of clothes. “I’ll go out first. Wait a few minutes until everyone else had cleared the quarters then you walk out.”

Jason laughed, like what she said was just adorable. After placing both arms through the holes on her jacket, she walked up to Jason, still sitting on the bed, and he craned his head to look up at her. Y/N held his face.

“Tonight, I’m just the commander.”

He slowly stood up, “You’re never just the commander.” His lips met her forehead and he walked over to pick up his shirt and hoodie, putting them on. Y/N walked to the door, barely opening it just to squeeze herself up.

She took one last look at Jason.

“Ten minutes.”

He gave her the best smile she’s seen in her life, with his teeth showing and his eyes all crinkled up at the corners.

Jason was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Y/N smiled back and closed the door.

Xxxxxx

Five hundred, seventy-two soldiers.

Five hundred, seventy-two rifles strapped to their upper bodies.

The Knight’s insignia, painted over their arms, and their uniforms the same red as the sirens. And on their faces, a gas mask covering the whole of their faces.

Five hundred, seventy-two units, in ten straight columns, all facing the platform where the woman in command, the Militia Commander, was standing.

She waited for the siren to come to a halt. This was their last assembly, a little past noon. A short while after this, they board the jets.

“PORT ARMS.”

The rifles were brought to the front of their bodies. The Commander’s arms were behind her back. She watched for any movement out of place. So far, there weren’t any.

“RIGHT SHOULDER ARMS.”

All arms parallel to the floor, the rifles were brought to rest on their shoulders.

“PORT ARMS.”

“ORDER. ARMS.”

The rifles were brought to the floor, with their one hand holding it up.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This was her biggest task to date.

Fifteen thousand dollars a day. For twelve weeks. That was what Jason promised her, to be given at the end of the night.

The Militia Commander’s face never faltered when her voice echoed throughout the halls.

“SIXTEEN COUNT. MANUAL ARMS.”

Five hundred seventy-two men. And not a hair out of sync.

At the front lines were the soldiers, including the checkpoint commanders. More than three hundred of them. Behind them, the brutes. Then the combat experts armed with swords. Finally, the medics stood at the far back.

Everything they’ve done, the build-up from the weeks of training. It all boils down to this night.

It started with Scarecrow releasing his first dose of the toxin in Pauli’s Diner, where a police officer shot five people and the rest dead from being mauled by their own friends and family. Then Crane sent out his warning. ‘Tomorrow, this will seem like child’s play.’

By now, the whole of Gotham will have been evacuated, save for the criminals, the thugs, the people with no other places to be.

They had the whole night. And with the five hundred soldiers in front of her, Gotham City will be theirs.

Jason stepped beside her. By the time the rifles came at a halt, the commander smiled. He turned his head to her, nodding.

“SQUAD ALPHA, AT EASE. ALL UNITS REPORT TO THE JETS AT 15:00 HOURS.”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

Like a final battle cry, her soldiers moved in orderly lines to the gates. They only had two hours and they leave the barracks for good. This morning they boarded all the drones and weapons caches left until the building looked nothing short of abandoned.

She stepped out the platform and grabbed her duffel bag sitting on the floor. There was a slight buzzing, coming from inside the biggest pocket. Placing it back on the floor, she opened it and dug out her clothes.

A sudden tightness came from her chest when she pulled out her phone. It was vibrating.

No.

Fucking no.

Before she flew to South America, she’d blocked her location, any tracking that could possibly affect her or the militia. She blocked every number possible. No one would be able to reach her no matter how much hacking had to take place.

All except one contact.

And she told that person never to call unless she absolutely had to.

Her fingers were shaking when she pressed the button to answer it.

“Susan?”

Jason went up to her, and she kept her eyes on him as she spoke. He pushed his visor open. He could tell something was wrong.

Susan, her uncle’s ex-wife. Y/N could hear her breathing on the other end, and she heard sobs. She knew her aunt could hear her.

“Susan, what’s going on?”

She heard her cry her name, in the softest voice. Like it would break if it were any louder. She heard Susan take a deep breath, and for a while, she was silent.

“Floyd is dead….”

She couldn’t see her own face.

And every word her aunt said after that, she couldn’t hear.

The marching of five hundred men, she couldn’t hear.

Her own breath, she couldn’t feel.

Like the clouds had stopped moving, and the air sucked into a vacuum. It was a messy blur, and the noise that just kept blowing into her ear. An empty, horrible noise. Like an inaudible screaming that sounded much like her own voice.

Susan was bawling at the other end of the phone. Eventually, Y/N heard a dead ringing. She dropped her phone to the ground.

Jason must’ve heard, because he looked just as distraught as she did.

“Y/N-“

“I have to go…”

To the empty rooms. To the abandoned training grounds. Anywhere. She just needed to move. Anything else and the ground would shake beneath her feet and pull her to the mantles. The floor wouldn’t stop spinning, and she had to keep herself up with her hand against the wall. Move. Move. Move. Where the noises wouldn’t reach her and the colors weren’t so loud.

She should have known. Floyd’s thinning hair, his boney physic, the slightest limp when he was escorted into the visiting area in Belle Reeves. And even before that, how he narrowly missed a shot, he wouldn’t stop beating himself over it. How he talked to her like it was the last time, how she never visited him again.

It was all there. How did she not see it.

‘A tumor. Right in the temple. There was no way he could have been saved. Not even if he wasn’t in prison.’

Her feet wouldn’t stop moving, not even when the walls looked crooked, moving closer together like it was to trap herself within them.

Y/N found herself in the combat grounds.

And by the doorway, her body sank. She took the rifle from her back and slammed it against the steel grounds.

And she released the same wordless cry that was inside her head, but much louder. Her cracked voice bounced off to the walls, louder and louder in search for any release of the painful tightness in the pit of her chest.

There was so much noise, yet so much silence. It was all at the same time. Like the wind was blowing right into her but she couldn’t find any air to breathe.

Her hands gripped on the rifle, her tears landing on the muzzle as her screams faded into echoes. She screamed again, and again, so much the twisting reached her throat. Her voice gave out and no longer could she cry. She fell to the floor, silent.

‘Breathe in. Breathe out.’

Her uncle’s voice, the same one she hears every time she fired a shot.

‘Breathe in. Breathe out, Y/N’ Floyd said. ‘Fire.’

She did as he would have told her. She slowed her heartbeat. She counted her breaths. She focused on the wall opposite of her. Farther. Focus. Focus.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Two arms wrapped around her, pulling her head onto his shoulder. Jason buried his head into her neck. She laid there, close to lifelessness, and stared at the ground. Jason pulled her even tighter.

“I’m here…”

Y/N let the tears fall, even on his armor. But she didn’t move. Even for a long while, none of them moved.

“You two kids done?”

Deathstroke. He was behind her.

“Slade-.”

“Squads Alpha through Foxtrot have boarded the jets. We need to go. Commander-“

Jason unwillingly pulled away. “Lawton. He’s dead.”

Her eyes stayed on the floor. She couldn’t see Deathstroke’s reaction.

“Deadshot?”

Jason nodded. He took both Y/N’s hands and slowly pulled her to stand up. “Come on, Y/N, we have to go.”

“Get over it, kid,” Slade said. “Your mentor had it coming.”

And her next move, no one even predicted. Jason didn’t move fast enough when the Commander charged for Deathstroke – fucking Deathstroke- holding his neck with her arm against the cement wall.

“Y/N!”

“He was my uncle, you son of a bitch.”

“I thought you hated him,” Slade said, pushing her away. Jason stood between her and Deathstroke, but even he wasn’t so sure if he was protecting her from Slade, or the other way around.

“Enough-“

“He raised me.”

Slade didn’t have an ounce of empathy. “Did he raise you? Or train you? There’s a difference. You barely have a life outside your firearms.”

“I kill only when I have to-“

“How many lives have you taken, huh?” Deathstroke was provoking her. “The same as I have.”

“That’s because a third of the people you’ve killed are innocent!”

“Commander! Slade!” Jason pushed her from stepping too close to the old man.

“Get your head back into the field, Commander,” Slade said. “We’re not about to drop everything because of you.”

She threw Jason’s hand away, then stormed out of the combat grounds.

“Where are you going?”

The Commander walked to the dark meeting room. The floor stopped spinning, and the walls stopped moving. Everything was silent now. Even Jason’s footsteps trailing just behind her. She walked into the room and Jason caught the door before she’d slammed it behind her. She sat on the chair, her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry…”

Jason kneeled in front of her and took her hands away from gripping her own hair too much. She was shaking, and her flesh felt dead cold. He took her face in his hands. “I’m here. Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.”

“He was dying. The last time I saw him- God, I can't get his voice out of my head.”

“I know. I know,” he pulled her close and she had it in her to hug him back. “Don’t worry about the militia. Don’t worry about Slade. Just look at me. Look at me.”

She did, and she felt his lips against her forehead, so soft she could break from it.

“You can stay behind if you want. You don’t have to force yourself. We can handle this. You’ve done more than enough, Commander Y/N.”

She pulled him closer and sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry-“

He shushed her, then let her cry in his arms.

He was dead. Floyd Lawton was dead. Her phone blocked any of his calls. He could have called her days ago. Yesterday. Calling to say goodbye. And she didn’t let him.

Her mentor. Her Father. The one she wasn’t born with. The man who took her in after his sister, her mother, didn’t want her. The man who raised her and loved her in his own way.

Jason didn’t let her go. Her tears had soaked his shoulder. Never, not even by herself, has she cried so much. She’s never experienced death, not when she never had many people close to her to begin with.

Is this how people feel? The friends and families of the hundreds of people she’s killed. Is this how they cope? After she’d fired the shot?

Has she caused hundreds, maybe thousands, so much pain? The same she felt right now?

His hand stroked her back. “Here,” Jason slightly pulled away. He handed her phone with a slightly cracked screen. “Call her.”

Her.

Of course.

Her. She grabbed her phone, and Jason nodded. He sat beside her while she found the contact and called.

The light of her life. The only good, most precious thing in the world before she met Jason. The one thing she always fought for. The one person she will never let darkness touch. Her.

She’d have heard the news by now. Every ring on her phone made her heart beat a little faster. Then she heard her sweet voice.

“Y/N?”

“Zoe…” Y/N cried, and she felt Jason’s hand wrap tighter around hers. He kept his eyes on her, and whenever he did, she calmed. “Zoe, I’m here…”

Her little cousin, who should be twelve years old by now. Who wasn’t much of a cousin as she was her sister. Zoe looked up to her like she was the best, most perfect woman in the world.

It was the other way around. Zoe was her happiness.

“Zoe…”

“Dad is gone,” she heard her say. Her voice was deeper, no longer the child she’d endlessly play with.

Y/N closed her eyes, the tears never-endingly dropping down her cheeks.

“Zoe, I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“You never visit anymore…”

“I know, monkey.” That was what she called her. Monkey. “But I’ll be there. And I’ll visit every week from now on.”

“You said that last time.”

She felt Jason’s thumb rub against the back of her hand, and she held it even tighter. His lips found her temple.

“I know. But I mean it this time. I promise.”

Floyd would want that. He loved his daughter more than anything. He’d want Y/N to take care of her.

“Promise…”

“Yes,” she said. “I promise. And I’ll buy you any toy you want. Every single week. You name it.”

“I’m twelve, Y/N. I don’t want toys anymore.”

“Of course,” she coughed a laugh. “Of course. Anything you want then. Books. Clothes. I’m rich now,” she glanced at Jason, who also managed a smile.

“You are?”

“Yes,” she wiped the tears away. Just the sound of her voice, everything felt better. “I have to go now, monkey. Can you give your phone to your mom, please?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Zoe.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

There was ruffling, then she heard her aunt’s voice.

“Susan. Where are you?”

“We’ve evacuated the city. We’re in Bludhaven.”

Jason just watched her, and she went on telling her aunt what was about to happen. It was difficult to ask that from them. Especially right now.

But they had to go.

Y/N hang up on the phone. And instantly, she went back into Jason’s arms.

“Wait for me at the jet. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jason cupped her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be okay.”

He kissed her forehead, then her lips. Just one sweet kiss. He held both her hands and squeezed them tight.

“Don’t take long.”

She nodded, then Jason left the room, closing the door behind him.

And there was silence, save for a voice whispering into her ear.

It was what he’d want. What he always wanted for her.

Y/N breathed in, then her eyes darted over to the duffel bag.

He was preparing for this moment. That’s why he gave it to her. He knew he was dying.

With the slightest hesitation, she pried the pockets open until she reached the deepest compartment, one she hadn’t touched unless she absolutely needed to.

Floyd never gave her an alter ego. He taught her everything he knew, and made her do it exactly as he would.

He always called her his heir.

She opened the pocket, and a deep red peered out.

Y/N emptied the contents, took everything with her and went for the locker rooms. He gave these to her before he was arrested. She told him she didn’t want it, but her uncle was persistent.

It was the least she could do.

Dull red leather, a suit specially made for her, and silver plates for her shoulders, chest, arms, and lower body. Tight black boots, strapped up to her leg. A gun wrapped around her wrist, this time big enough to fire the same bullets as an M99 sniper. Another gun on her other hand, her rifle.

She faced the mirror.

Then she pulled the white mask over her head.

And staring at her reflection was the bright red light, glowing from the gun optics attached to her right eye.

Floyd Lawton never wanted her to be a sidekick. He wanted Y/N to be HIM after he was gone.

She stormed out the building, out into the hangar where the final jet was about to take off. The aircraft’s exit gate was wide open, leading up to the back where thirty of her men were strapped to the seats.

The Arkham Knight and Deathstroke awaited her at the entrance. The moment she stepped in, the gate folded back up and the jet prepared for take off.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Three hours, and she could feel the jet descending. The Arkham Knight, Deathstroke, and the Commander stood at the front lines where the gate at the back of the jet slowly descended.

She was the woman who led an army of five hundred seventy-two units, mercenaries recruited from all places around the world.

She was the woman about to take control over the City of Gotham, to take Batman head on.

She was the Commander to the Arkham Knight’s Militia.

The red on her optics burned bright at the first taste of Gotham’s darkness.

She was Deadshot.

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo 

[catxsnow]

VENGEANCE PART TWO

Summary: Part two of Vengeance. No one disrespected Jason, you were going to make sure of that. 

Tim x reader and Sister!reader x Jason 

Warning: angst

A/N: As requested!!! Part!! Two!!! 

Hope this satisfies all of you but already guessing there’s going to be more requests for a part three LMAO. I’m really bad at trying to end things, whoops.

I’ve never been so nervous to post before what the fuck 

GIF not mine

Part one

Word Count: 3.6k

You spent the next few weeks trying to figure out who this guy was. It wasn't just the fact that he knew who you were, it was that he had gone as far as to disrespect your late brother. Jason was everything to you and losing him destroyed you. If it wasn't for Tim, you feared what kind of dark path you would be down.

You weren't the only one on the hunt for the mystery man - Bruce was too. After your encounter with him, he had made it a mission go taunt Bruce. The things he was saying, it was things that no one outside of your circle should know. He most definitely wasn't within your group.

His fighting style was relentless. Not worried about killing, brutal against his enemies, and his weaponry was insane. He left you with broken ribs, stitches, and bruises that didn't want to go away for over a week. It had cut down on your patrol time but meant you could do more surveillance to try and find him within Gotham.

You were going to catch this man, even if it meant putting yourself at risk. Tim never spoke of your words again - about wanting to kill this man for speaking ill of Jason. He never told Bruce, but the more he watched you work, the more worried he got for you.

Tim was the kind of man that could run on very few hours of sleep. He proved that to you very often by staying up late to finish work, or even school work. It would be the very late hours of the night before he joined you in bed sometimes. He was used to working late to get things done.

You on the other hand? You were not near enough like him to copy his lifestyle. It would be Tim having to drag you to bed because it was getting late for him. He could see how exhausted you were - bags under your eyes, a slump in your step; you needed sleep. However, you weren't going to get a good nights rest until he was caught.

"(Y/N)," Tim called out to you. It had to have been past three in the morning and the two of you had class the next day. You only hummed in response, keeping your eyes on the screen. Tim huffed at your lack of acknowledgement and hung his arms around your shoulders behind the chair. His chin rested on the top of your head as he watched what you were looking at. "It's time for bed, come on."

"Just a few more minutes, Timmy," You promised. Tim rolled his eyes, you had said that nearly half an hour ago. You saw the disappointment grow on his face on the reflection of the screen. With a sigh, you shut the computer off and heeded to his words. You needed sleep, as much as you wished you didn't.

"I'm worried about you," Tim told you. The two of you walked hand in hand out of the cave and to your shared room. Bruce didn't like the idea of sharing a room but you were nearing twenty and Tim was in his final year of high school - you both were old enough to make your own decisions.

Juggling class at Gotham University and trying to find this Red Helmeted asshole was a battle you weren't sure you could win.

"I know," You hung your head slightly. "I'm sorry that I'm putting you through this. I just - I can't stand the fact that he's out there, lurking, somewhere. Jason would want me to find him, he would want me to figure out what his intentions are."

"I know," Tim repeated your words. He squeezed your hand and kissed the side of your head. One of the first things that he had noticed about you all those years ago, was that you did everything in Jason's memory. All your choices and actions were based off of what he would have wanted.

"We'll catch him, but you need to take care of yourself first. You're not going to be able to catch someone asleep on your feet. Please, for me, for Bruce, for Jason, get yourself back on track before your hunt against him."

"I will," and this time you meant it. Tim was right, you weren't in good shape right now. This obsessiveness was taking over. Even if you were to find him, you were in no state to be able to take him down. He had already beat you once, you couldn't let that happen again. "I love you, Tim. I really don't know where I would be without you."

"Arkham, probably," Tim joked. You smacked his chest, but couldn't help but laugh. The sad truth was that it was true. If it wasn't for him, you feared for what kind of dark path you would have went down. "I love you, too, (Y/N)."

><

You had done what Tim had asked. Your sleeping schedule became normal (for you), and you were starting to look healthier again. Out on patrol, the two of you stuck together rather than splitting apart to cover more area. If you had another run in with red-helmet-guy, then the two of you could take him down together.

Tim was jumping from the previous rooftop to catch up to you. He was always envious that you were faster than him. You stood on the edge of the roof where you had last scene that man. The sushi place that you never got to go to was lit up and instead of the warm feeling in your chest that you felt when you thought of it and Tim, you felt anger - hate even.

Furious that this man knew such little details about your life, that he thought he knew Jason and what he stood for. You knew Jason, you were the only person who ever really knew Jason. Neither of your parents cared about you, Bruce was too cut off to know the tiny details about your brother. It was always just you and him, and now, he was gone.

Tim finally made it to stand beside you. The city lights shone below you and the late night traffic was causing the empty space to be filled with noise. Tim turned his gaze to where you were looking. He sighed and subtly squeezed your hand. 

Batman had already scolded the two of you never to show affection while on the streets.

You knew that he was right to think like that. One criminal sees the two of you close and the whole city knows. Every single one of your enemies would know both of your weaknesses - each other. However, on cold nights, where the darkness that filled the city also filled your heart, you needed Tim's light to remind you that you weren't the costume. You were human.

"I miss him, Robin," you finally broke the silence. It had been years since Jason's death, yet now more than ever you missed your brother. "Fuck, I miss him so much."

"I know," Tim sighed. There was very little that he could do to comfort you at the moment. Hell, you shouldn't have even brought up your feelings but you couldn't hold it in. Tim was the only person you could express your feelings no matter the time or place. "I'm sorry."

"No, it was my fault. I should have gone with him, I should have been there with him," You shook your head. "Maybe he'd still be alive if the two of us were there. We could have taken him down together, or maybe we would have died together."

"Jason didn't take you with him because he knew it was risky," Tim looked over at you. He could see your eyes were glassy from beneath your mask. "He always wanted you to be safe, that was what mattered most to him. I might not have ever met him but I know that I'm thankful for him protecting you for so many years."

"And when he needed me most I wasn't there to protect him," You hung your head low. You had failed Jason all those years ago and it haunted you ever since. Nightmare after nightmare you awoke in the night. They were all the same - each one of them the most gruesome things that the Joker could have done to him.

"That wasn't your fault," Tim tried to argue. He was frustrated with you every time that you thought that his death was your fault. There were so many nights that Tim woke up beside you in the night while you were drenched in sweating and panting at your nightmare. He was the one that would calm you down until you were able to fall back asleep.

"There's an hour left until Bruce wants us back, let's split up. It's been a quiet night I'm not too worried," You changed the subject. You didn't need Tim to try and convince you that Jason dying wasn't your fault. There was always a hint of pity in his voice and you didn't want to hear it, not tonight. "I'll call in if I see anything."

You didn't give him time to argue before jumping off the roof that the two of you were standing on and swinging away with your grappling gun. The cold breeze whipped against your face though you could barely feel it anymore. Cold nights like these always used to make you want to stay in and have Alfred's hot cocoa. Now, you embraced the nights like these.

As kids, you and Jason would always bundle up in every blanket you could find and nearly beg Alfred to make the two of you hot cocoa. He always would, and the two of you would nearly shake at excitement while you waited. A movie would play on the big screen and you would spend the rest of the night watching as many as you could before falling asleep.

Tim had surprised you with the same kind of date one night and as weary as you were to partake, you realized that making new memories with Tim was the reason that you were able to keep doing what you were doing. You were making yourself happy with him and that was what mattered the most.

Standing on the roof of one of the clubs within the city, you could feel the base of the music below your feet and see the crowd of people coming in and out of the building. Part of you wanted to join the drunk, messy people within. Instead, you tensed at a joined presence behind you.

"You're a hard person to get alone."

On instinct, you threw several batarangs towards him. He had managed to dodge them all without even needing to try. It only frustrated you more. You lunged towards him, hastily trying to hit him in any way that you could. After all these weeks of searching for him, you were finally going to get your chance to bring him down.

The red helmet man didn’t seem prepared for your oncoming wave of attacks. The first punch had knocked him off balance just enough that kicking his chest completely brought him to the ground. This seemed to be too easy. He was too skilled to only be brought down by a few hits.

Either way, you didn't care. You stood above this man, the words that you spoke to Tim rang through your head. I want him dead. The rage that you felt going against the Joker was far worse than you were feeling right now. As much as you wanted him dead, you desperately wanted to know who he was first.

You knelt on his chest, digging your knee painfully into him. A batarang was placed right at the small slit of bare skin below his helmet. "I'm giving you one last chance to do this the easy way: who are you?"

"Haven't figured it out yet? Maybe you haven't improved that much, Batgirl. I never introduced myself last time, call me the Red Hood." That didn't get you any closer to what you wanted to find out. This guy had to have been new to town, you had never heard that name before. "Jason -"

"You say one more thing about him and I'll kill you before you get the chance to finish your sentence," your fist tightened at your sides and the sharp end of the batarang dug into his skin even more. Thoughts about what you wished to do to this man filled your mind. You wanted him to suffer, to know the pain that Jason felt so he knew never to speak ill of him again.

"Bats wouldn't be happy with you."

"Fuck Batman," you harshly reacted. "Jason was the only person that mattered to me and if I have to go against Batman's code then so be it."

You couldn't see Red Hood's reaction to your words besides the fact that his body was extremely still. He suddenly used brute strength to not only kick him off you, but off the elevated fan that you two were perched on. You caught yourself before hitting the ground.

Red Hood stood up and stared down at you. You stood ready for whatever move he wanted to pull next. His knees bent just enough to push off, and with such grace, flipped over you so that he was standing right behind you. Red Hood towered over you and you couldn't help but feel some intimidation.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," standing closer to him, you could hear his voice through the modulator. It didn't make much of a difference to his real voice. What caught you off guard, was the way that he flipped up and over you. You recognized that push off, the landing, you had seen it done a million times.

The voice. The flip. The sushi. Hell, everything that this man had said and done in the two short encounters that you had with him. You recognized it all, you should have known better, from the start. You should have known why he knew so much about you and why he was so adamant that he knew Jason better than you.

No one knew Jason better than you, except for Jason himself.

"Robin to Batgirl, what's your status?" Red Hood must have heard the static in your earpiece, his head shifted just slightly to the right. You stared up at him, and you swore that he could hear the gears grinding in your head with all your thinking. Everything was starting to make sense to you. "Batgirl?"

Slowly, you reached up to turn your earpiece off. Tears welled up in your eyes once more that night, except this time for a completely different reason. Realization of who was under the mass came to you in a wave of emotion. Terror, fear, hope. You couldn't distinguish your feelings any more.

The tidal wave of all your past horrors washed over you. The terrifying nightmares that you woke up to at night. The grief you felt having to stand over Jason's grave at his funeral. The memories that you shared with him for so many years of your life. The anger that you felt towards the Joker, towards the Red Hood. All of it was overwhelming your senses to the point that you couldn't see straight.

The music from the club below didn't pound as loudly as your heart. The drunken vision that most of the people felt downstairs couldn't have been worse than your own. Even those who were so doped up on drugs must have had more feeling in their fingertips. You felt numb to everything.

"Jason."

Thunder crackled across the sky. The rain that was already spitting against you gushed down more.

Your throat was dry, so dry that you thought that no amount of water would ever be apply to replenish your body. The armor that you wore suddenly felt heavier, as if it was pulling you down to the earth and never allowing you to crawl back up.

The things that Red Hood had said to you before replayed in your mind. Jason would be disappointed. He knew because he was Jason, and he spoke what he believed to be the truth because he knew what he felt. He never told you who he was because he was disappointed that you never avenged him.

He knew that the only person that knew Jason better than you, was Jason himself. 

"Jason," You repeated once more. Red Hood stood before you, he said no words, made no movements. Without hesitance, you reached up to pull the cowl off your head. Rain drenched your hair, your skin, it soaked through your clothes. You didn't care about how cold you felt, just the emptiness that was in your chest.

"You've grown."

Your chin trembled and no matter how hard you tried to force it stop, it wouldn't. With shaky hands, you reached up to Red Hood's helmet. Your fingers latched onto the bottom and pulled it up and off his head.

Fear of what you would see filled you. Your eyes were sealed shut, and you couldn't bare to look at the sight ahead of you. To be honest, you weren't sure what you wanted to see when you finally opened your eyes.

Cold green eyes stared down at you. Black mop of hair with the smallest tuft of white sticking out in the front. Faint scars laced his skin but a particular one stood out to you the most. A small J was carved into his cheek. Beneath all this tragedy, beneath the age, you knew this face. 

This was your brother.

Without hesitance, you threw the helmet to the ground and rushed into him. Your arms were tightly wrapped around him - never wanting to let go because you could never lose him again. You didn't care if you were dreaming or if this was some kind of cruel joke being played on you - all you cared was that in that moment, you had your brother again.

Jason was rigid against you. He planned to be just as angry with you as he was with Bruce, but then he heard what you were saying to Tim. He heard you talk so highly about him, about how much you missed him, and how you wished that you were dead beside him in that terrible warehouse. He wanted to feel an anger towards you for never killing the Joker. It was easier to be angered than to forgive for something that you truly believed in.

His feelings changed when you stood there with your arms wrapped around him and tears down your face for him returning back to you.

Jason finally returned the hug. His arms squeezed you so tightly that you couldn't breathe properly but that was the least of you worries at the moment. Jason missed you more than anything. You were the one person that he could always rely on, and after seeing you on that rooftop, he knew that he could continue to do so.

"How is this possible? How are you here?"

"A story for another time," Jason assured. He knew that the moment that he revealed himself to you, that there would never be a separation again. It had been years since he got to see you, years that you thought he was dead and never coming back. This all felt surreal. You wanted nothing more than to believe that this was true, that it wasn't some cruel trick.

"I know you're still working with the Bats, and now you've got Tim... but I can't go back. I won't go back. And if you're willing, I'd like if you joined me," Jason offered. After what Batman did to him, he didn't want you with him either. He was sure that the only reason that you hadn't left yet was because you had no one else to turn to. Now, you had him.

"Jason, I-," you cut yourself off. You loved Tim, you loved him more than you loved yourself, but Jason? Jason was blood and you couldn't abandon that. No matter how much Tim had done for you, Jason was always your number one. That was something that Tim had accepted a long time ago, your brother would always be your priority.

"I know," he nodded in understatement at your dilemma. Jason didn't hate Tim, he never hated Tim. In fact, aside from him being a complete idiot for taking up the role of Robin, he was glad that it was Tim who had ended up in his sister's life. She needed him, and Jason truly appreciated that Tim was the one to be there for her when he wasn't.

"I'll join you," You firmly told him. You didn't want things to end badly with Bruce and Tim - you would always love them. But being with Jason again filled the whole in your heart that nothing could ever replace. No amount of vengeance against the Joker would ever bring you fulfillment like you had right now. 

You never expected to see Jason again, you couldn't lose this chance. Not after all those night of hoping that you could be with him again. Your dreams had finally become a reality: you had your brother back.

"There's no going back."

"I know."

Tagged: @xapham​ @wasnt-expecting-that​ @annabellabrookes​ @ximaginx​ @comic-brew​ @itzagothamcitysiren​ @lux-xen-and-her-catastrophes​ @cipheress-to-k-pop​ @xapham​ @samaras-weavings 

I think I got everyone that asked to be tagged but I’m so, so sorry if I missed you!

[arthurflecksgirl]

Hi sweety❤️ Can I have a fic where Arthur helps x reader who's having a panick attack? him calming her down, cuddling her... thank you so much 😘

My dear friend. Thank you sooooo much for your request. I really really hope you like the result.

Summary: You`re greateful for how far you and Arthur had come in your relationship, how much progress he made to experience true happiness. But then you discover one of his journal entries. Is he still in the same dark place he was before? Just the thought of him suffering is giving you a panic attack. But Arthur is right there with you...

The dim light from the tv screen was the only light that filled the living room. Murray Franklin was talking to a well known comedian. You watched Arthur resting on the couch. He was falling asleep during the live show, even though he was looking forward to this episode all day, he was so tired, his eyes got heavy when Ellis Draine and his Jazz Orchestra started playing already.

"One day" you thought watching him breathe in and out like it was the easierest thing to do when you suffered from waht he had been through. One day he will be sitting on Murrays couch and telling his own jokes. And his idol will be proud of him like a father. Because he deserved it. He deserved the world.

Arthur seemed at peace with himself sleeping. That was new. Which made you proud of how far you two have come in your relationship. He was getting better.You felt it every morning waking up, receiving your good morning kiss from his coffee stained lips and cigarette tasting breath. He was making baby steps but looking at it now, over a year later it was a total different world he was living in. The one you created together. Ever since you met him you wanted to cure him. To support and comfort him through everyday life. To help him out of his mindset which was all that he had known since he was little.

People kept telling you that it was impossible to heal wounds like his. To heal someone that experienced his kind of trauma. That all he needed was proffessional help. But you knew that they missed out at something. Just because he needed his meds didnt mean that love wasnt the key for his cure.  You knew that there were some scars hidden inside of him, buried so deep that it would take years to get through and be able to work on that. But you also knew that being  loved was the only thing in this world that could ease Arthurs pain and make him the man he always wanted to be. He was destined to be.

And every single day  spent together was proof that he was making progress. His smile became more and more genuine. His laughing fits didnt happen as often anymore and if so they wouldnt last that long because you would hold him and help him breathe until it was over. He also told you about his journal entries and how they changed. His therapist was also seeing the changes. He was talking about how much more poetry and beautiful thoughts filled the pages.

You gently stroke his hair. Watching him sleep always felt pretty intimate to you. He was so vulnerable and unaware of his beauty. But you knew that even in his sleep he was aware of another thing- your love. Thats why he was even able to get some sleep.

You took another close look at his face. You could never get enough of him. It was risky to give him a kiss on his closed eyelids. Arthur had a very light sleep and could wake up any second but there was no way to fight the urge to do so. His eyelid fluttered under the soft touch of your bottom lip, but he didnt wake. You let your index finger travel over his dark eyebrows. They were shaped so perfectly, matching his piercing eyes and the slight circles underneath them. His body was still stressed out from work. His fragile body which was trying so hard not to break down while starving.

His stomach problems caused by his meds was another thing you had to work through. You looked at the bowl on the table. he almost finished his soup today, which was a good sign. You smiled, got up from your knees and walked to his desk to get the empty cups of coffee from the morning. It was time to make the dishes.

But the moment you grabbed the cups his journal distracted you. It was opened. You wondered about his last entries, the ones he wanted to show you because he wrote some new poems lately.

It took you a moment to think about if it was even okay to have a look at the opened page but it was already too late. One sententence was marked, the letters thicker than the rest of the written words. It caught your eye without a warning. And when you read it, your heart stopped for a second.

"I just hope my death makes more cents than my life"

Why?

Why the hell would he write something cruel like that?

The letters started to blurr through your tears. One tear was falling upon the page. Right on the word HOPE.

Shit. Now he would notice that you came near this page. You nerveausly grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it on the spot where the tear was soaking through the page. It was too late, making it look even worse.

You started to cry , throwing the handkerchief on the floor.

Why?

Yo thought he was getting better. There was so much proof.

Did he felt like his life was worthless?

Didnt make any sense?

Was he feeling like all of this wasnt making sense?

You thought you helped him.

Was it al in your mind? His proress? Him becoming a happier version of himself? Was it all a lie you told yourself?

The possibility of Arthurstill being the same tortured soul as when you met him simply broke your heart.

Why was a beautiful and gentle soul like him suffering so much? How cruel can the world be to him?

Was he still wishing he was dead? Was he still lying in bed at night, fantasizing about ending his own life?  Would he ever hurt himself again? Risking to being locked up at Arkham, so there was no chance to share a bed together? Just visits with him being handcuffed on the other side of the table? Was there still a chance he was that unhappy inside?

Tears fell like rain.

The pain inside your heart grew with every thought that crossed your mind. If life was still torture to him, why wouldnt he talk about this to you? Didnt he trusted you enough? Was he embarrassed about how he felt? Or was it simply because he didnt wanted you to get worried about his condition?

It was all too much.

You started to feel like your throath was getting tighter. Like the walls were closing in. Everything inside of you screamed. There was this nameless fear inside of your guts. Possesing you, hurting you. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Dizzyness overcame you with all its power. Cold sweat. All of the sudden the happiness you felt while watching him sleep was being sucked out of your body. And now all you knew was fear.  Liek it was the only emotion left in the world. Pure, naked fear in its rawest form.

A panic attack.

You had experienced this before but never this intense.

You sat down on the chair, trying not to look at the opened journal again.  It hurt so much. All of it did. Your body. Your heart. Mostly your heart. And your head. Both heavy from tears and the thought of Arthur being suicidal.

Your breathing got heavier as you started to sobb.

And then you heard Arthurs footsteps. His naked feet on the floor. You woke him up. He was finally resting and you woke him. This made you feel even worse.

"Oh my god Y/N, darling. What happened?" He noticed your tears and heavy breathing.

"Dont worry....Arhur....please....just go back to sleep okay? You need your sleep.  You`ve been working hard today...."

Arthur checked your pulse "Oh shit, your heart is racing. Did you took any medication? "

"No..."

"Did something else happen?" He checked your forehead, noticed your shaking hands. "Looks like you`re having a panic attack. I know the symptoms very well. I had so many in the past when I woke up from nightmares."

You nodded. Still sobbing like a baby. Arthur gave you one of his handkerchiefes and started to stroke your hair "Oh darling, I kow this feels terrible. But it will pass. Just try to breathe. Breathe with me okay. Remember when you helped me breathe during my laughing fits? I will do the same with you now okay?"

"Okay"

Arthur lifted you up and carried you to the couch.

"Is that okay? Is it comfortable?" you nodded. He was so caring it broke your heart. He cared so much about you, while inside he was suffering from so much pain.

He positioned himself behind you, resting both of his hands on your tummy and told you to breathe in and out like he did. Until you felt your breath becoming one with his. Just as calm and deep.

"Good" he whispered, his gentle fingers under your shirt. He knew that skin on skin contact helped calming you down.

"You`re doing great" his voice was everything you needed to hear.

"Oh Arthur....I feel like I cant breathe...."

"Shhhhhhtt.....baby I know. I know how it feels. Your body is telling you lies. You can breathe. Just do it with me."

"You felt Arthurs chest lifting up and down, his warm breath in your neck. He was everything to you. You needed him to be happy.

Arthur placed thoughtful kisses all over your neck. As soft as a butterflies wings. You tried to concentrate on the details. His long , dark eyelashes crossing the spot behind your ears. The tip of his nose tickeling you. His muffled "I love you`s".

"I`m sorry I woke you up"

"Dont be!"

"There was this sudden fear coming over me. It was like....I thought I was dying."

"I´m right here with you Y/N. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise!"

You nodded. Knowing he was right. Nothing could harm you with Arthurs arms around you. You just wished it was the same the other way around. Wasnt it the same?

His journal said it wasnt.  His written words hitting you like a knife.

"Do you know what triggered this?" He asked you, while his hand was caressing your chest.

Should you tell him? He would notice the wet spot on his journal page anyway.

"Arthur I am so scared to tell you this but...I was ...oh god....I was looking at your opened diary  page. It was lying on teh table when I was getting the coffee cups and there was this sentence that caught my eyes......" you started to sobb uncontrolable.

"What page?" he asked "Please dont cry. Ohhhhhh please ...." he pulled you closer to his chest so his heartbeat was pressed against you.

"You wrote....."I just hope my death makes more cents than my life...." Arthur. This hit me so hard. I didnt knew you still felt like this. I dont know.....what to say....I`m just.......oh Arthur....." you pressed yourself against him as if your life depended on it. Arthurs white shirt was now soaked with tears.

"Ohhh nooo darling. That was my old journal. My therapist wanted to bring it back to her to proof how much progress I made since I met you!"

You loosened your embrace to look him in the eyes "W-What?"

"Yeah" he shrugged "I just marked the darkest pages to see how far we have come and stopped at this one before going to sleep."

The weight of the world was falling off your shoulders "Really?"

"Yes.....oh  Y/N I am so sorry you had to go through these emotions just because I was so stupid to leave my old journal lying on the table. "

"You are not stupid Arthur!"

"Well this time I was"

"It was my fault....I shouldnt have looked at the page in the first place".

The air was finally coming back. Your body was starting to relax again.

Arthur held you close in his arms "That was the old me. And yes sometimes I´m still having dark thoughts but its just.....echoes from the past. Its not part of our reality anymore. Its just ghosts. They`re not real. Just trying to tell me lies. So I am not listening to them . I´m listening to you. To your words of love and comfort. I`m save with you. And you are save with me. Remember?"

"I remember Arthur. I love you so much!"

"I love you more"

"Thats impossible" you smiled, kissing his upper lip.

Arthur rested his head in the crook of your neck whispering "If I`ve learned one thing from being loved, its this: Nothing`s impossible - with you in my arms".

@impulsiveclown @will-you-be-there @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @ajokeformur-ray@damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle  @duhliriouss  @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes  @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie  @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend  @arthurhappyclown    @neon-umbrella-for-stella    @call-me-harley-quinn  @arthurjokersgirl

@aarthurfleckk @mylovelycrazyworld @clownalog @ajokerfangirl  @the-one-who-is-chaos @sabrinaeileensnape @raven-romanoff

[ficklefics]

Who Needs Enemies - Chapter Two: Lost and Found

Harleen can’t worry about Jerome right now - she has a job to do, and people to meet.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel, Jeremiah Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER ONE

Warnings: None

“Harleen! Have you seen this?”

I’m shuffling downstairs still half asleep when Wren shouts to me from the kitchen. I give a vague mumble in response.

“Hurry up!” “Okay!” This time I manage to form something resembling a word. It’s the little things.

I make my way into the room where she’s standing holding the television control and rewinding. “What is it?” “Just watch.”

She presses play.

“Jerome Valeska, known criminal and anarchist, has been arrested.” I’m not surprised, but my heart still freezes in my throat. “After a standoff with the GCPD last night, he was taken into custody and will return to Arkham Asylum later today. Valeska has evaded attempts to apprehend him since his escape from Arkham in February.”

“He didn’t escape, he was kidnapped,” I mutter, purely for the sake of it. “That’s not the point.” Wren gives me a look. “I’m just saying, they shouldn’t be spreading misinformation.” “Shush.”

“Valeska has been responsible for countless deaths and destructive incidents since the murder of his mother five years ago; most recently, the kidnapping and torture of socialite Harleen Quinzel.”

“Ooh, I get a special mention. I’m so glad my reputation isn’t permanently impacted by him.” I roll my eyes before grabbing the controller and turning the tv off. “Moving on: what time’s your train?”

*

Two hours later I’m hugging Wren goodbye at the station. A day isn’t long enough after so much time. But she and my parents are flying to Barbados tomorrow – summer vacation far away from the grim realities of life. “Stay safe,” She says into my shoulder. “When don’t I?” I tease. Another look. “I’ll do my best.”

I wave until the train is out of sight and resist the urge to cry, instead turning and striding away. In half an hour I’m meeting Bruce and I need to be ready.

*

The café we’ve arranged to meet at is small, cosy and, most importantly, quiet. There’s a mocha and a croissant sitting in front of me as I wait for him to arrive.

Since February we’ve tried to meet up regularly – both of us wanting to make sure the other wasn’t becoming isolated – but the chaotic and unpredictable nature of Bruce’s life made scheduling more than difficult. We’re lucky to see each other once a month.

In a way that works better for me. It makes it easier to hide the truth, to lie straight to the face of one of my best friends. To pretend that everything is okay. That everything is normal. That I’m not falling for an insane criminal. That I’m not a traitor.

“Harleen!” The smile on my face is genuine when I see Bruce standing at the counter. I give him a wave and wait for him to come over, carrying a tray holding a black coffee and a blueberry muffin. “It’s good to see you.” “You too. I’ve missed you.” And I mean it. “How’s life?” He sighs, looking away. “Good days and bad days. Sometimes… sometimes it just feels like no matter how much good I do, Gotham is just getting worse and worse.” “I get that. There’s so much darkness here – it’s suffocating. It’s so difficult to know what’s right and wrong.” I’m consoling myself as much as I’m consoling him. The line between good and evil has practically disappeared. The greater good is irrelevant – what did walking in the light ever do for me? At least in the darkness, I can hide. At least I can protect myself. “I’m glad you understand. Selina doesn’t struggle with things like this – if she can justify it, she’ll do it. No matter what.” “I wish I could do that – make a decision without second-guessing myself.” It feels all I do these days is question my decisions – is this really what I want? Is Jerome what I want?

Eventually, I’ll have to make a decision. Peace or chaos. Duty or freedom. Bruce or Jerome.

I can’t imagine what Bruce would say if he found out the truth. I know he wouldn’t understand. And I know he would never trust me again.

“That’s life though.” He shrugs, a melancholy look in his eyes. But with a sip of his coffee, he perks up and smiles. “How about you? How are you getting on?” “Surviving.” I laugh, tearing my croissant and taking a bite. “I finally have some control back in my life. No parents, no school, flexible work -” “No Jerome.” He interjects. “No Jerome.” I nod. Bullshit. “He was arrested last night.” “I saw. How do you feel?” “I don’t know.” There’s some honesty. “At least now we know where he is. But they mentioned me in the report.” Bruce nods. “It’s as though… as though I’ll always be associated with him, whether I like it or not.” Do I want that? Do I want my name alongside Jerome’s for the rest of my life? I chose him… But what does that mean?

“So you haven’t seen him since-?” “Since he killed the people who took us from Arkham.” More lies. All I can do is lie. “He’s left me alone. Moved on.”

Liar.

*

Next stop is the library. I hurry up the steps just as it starts to rain. Inside it’s quiet. Obviously.

I smile at the librarian as I walk past the desk in the direction of the computers. Sitting down, I pull out Jerome’s note. ‘Zachary Tumble’. I can’t get Jerome out of Arkham. I can’t play the hero. But I can do this for him.

There’s no feeling of guilt as I type the name into the search bar. I know that if I find him and tell Jerome where he is, he’s as good as dead. But he deserves it. Just the thought of Jerome as a young child, being tortured and abused by this man, makes him deserve it.

“Practically cooked me down to the bone.”

My jaw set, I begin my research, noting down every detail that I can, anything that might help.

I will find him.

*

A few weeks later and there’s been no word from Jerome. He’s still in Arkham and all I can do is wait. Life has become boring, monotone, without his presence.

So there’s only one thing to do.

For the first time in months, I’m back out on the streets in the dead of night. All in black, hood up, blending into the nightlife of Gotham. I don’t plan on committing any “misdeeds”. It’s enough just to be out, that vague sense of rebellion, of danger. It’s barely anything compared to everything I’ve experienced now, but it’s better than nothing.

It’s as if I don’t exist. Just another person in a sea of ghosts.

At some point, I become aware of someone following me. When I turn and look back there isn’t anything out of place, but I know that’s not true.

Thinking strategically I turn down an empty alleyway. With the sound of the city muffled I know for certain that there is someone behind me.

I wait a moment before I pull the gun out from my waistband and point it at my stalker.

It’s Selina.

“Since when did you start carrying a gun?” “Since I got kidnapped and tortured on live television.” I lower the weapon. “Why are you following me?” “I wanted to talk to you.” “You know where I live.” I frown at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “I went to your place. You weren’t there.” She steps closer so that she’s standing right in front of me. “So I found you.” “Well, here I am.” I shrug. “What did you want to talk about?”

“How are you doing?” She shoves her hands into her pockets. “Really?” “Yeah. We’re friends – I wanted to check in.”

I start walking again, with Selina at my side, and head back into the streets. “I assumed Bruce would keep you updated.” “He does. But I want to hear it from you.” I know Selina could see right through me if I’m not careful. “Honestly? I don’t know.” Careful, Harleen. One wrong move and you could lose everything. “It’s weird. Everything’s so different. I’m not afraid anymore.” She examines me out of the corner of her eye. “Why not?” “Because now I’m in control. I’m not running from anything or anyone. I get to decide what my life is – no one else.” Technically not lying. “Good. You’re strong; you need to use that.” I nod. “There’s something else.” “Oh dear.” “Penguin asked to see you.”

“What?” I stop in my tracks, confused. “Penguin hates me.” “Well, he wants to talk to you. He didn’t say why.” “When?” “As soon as possible.”

“Let’s go then.”

*

It doesn’t take us long to get to the mansion. I even manage not to crash this time.

I lead the way inside. It’s exactly as I remember it, luxurious and dark. We find Penguin in the lounge, despite the late hour, with a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Penguin.” He doesn’t seem surprised to see us standing there. “Thank you, Miss Kyle.” “No problem.” She turns to leave, giving me what is almost a warning glance. “Good luck.”

And then we’re alone. Penguin gestures towards the chair opposite him and I sit down in it, resisting the anxious instinct that screams at me to run. No weakness.

“It’s been a while, Miss Quinzel.” “Yup.” I pause for a moment, and as he’s about to speak I interrupt him. “You know, you could just call me Harleen.” He examines me for what feels like an eternity. “You might be aware I escaped Arkham recently. While I was there, Jerome and I spoke.” “You saw him?” I struggle to cover the emotion behind my question. But I’m pretty sure he knows anyway. “Is he okay?” “He has the run of the place – he’s only there because he wants to be.” “And why’s that?” “He didn’t tell you?” I shake my head. “I assumed you would know the details.” “I don’t know anything. Other than that he’s looking for his uncle.” “Well, he wanted me to tell you that he has a plan. And that you need to be ready when he breaks out.” He swirls the liquid in his glass, watching it sparkle in the warm light of the fire. “What do you mean ready?” “That’s all he said.” Penguin’s eyes lift to meet mine. He’s stern, as always, but there’s a flicker of fear. I don’t know what Jerome told him, but it’s serious. “He’ll come and get you, and you need to be ready to leave. He’s bringing everyone here.” “Everyone?” Who’s everyone? As far as I know, Jerome’s allies are always temporary. But maybe there’s something he hasn’t told me. “That’s all he said.”

I stand up, irritated and relieved at the same time. I’m glad Jerome’s okay – but the ambiguity of his message his frustrating. “Be ready.” What does that even mean?

“Thank you, Mr Cobblepot.” Turning to leave, I’m at the door when he speaks again.

“One last thing.” “Yeah?” “He wants you to get him a suit.”

CHAPTER THREE

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Freaks” Part 1

Y/N is a metahuman with several peculiarities, but one could say the weirdest is her heart: it is gated by four locks that make it impossible for the woman to fall in love. Also one could say she’s manipulative, cunning and ruthless. Sounds familiar? Maybe that’s why The Joker is the perfect candidate to help her finally get something she always desired: a one of a kind heir.

“Yoooo-hoooooooooo, Mister Jooo-kkkeeerrr!!!!” Bane skips along the poorly lit corridor since it’s almost 11 at night and the Arkham inmates are supposed to be asleep. Yet they’re not: the ruckus woke them all up and now they are standing by the glass walls facing the hallway, wondering what the heck is going on.

The real Bane sighs, completely unappreciative of you borrowing his physical appearance.  

“Hey, cut it out!” he admonishes as Y/N passes by and she decides to stop for a moment.

“Hello there handsome,” you swing your hips while walking towards him and The Riddler snorts, entertained: his cell is right across so it’s not like he can miss the show.

“If you’re going to mimic me, don’t do stuff like that!” Bane hisses through his mask, irritated.

“Apologies honey,” you wink and continue. “Far from me to purposely chop your masculinity to pieces,” but seductively sway on the tip of the heavy boots, taunting more because... who’s going to stop you?

“Seriously?!” Bane growls and you cut him some slack, transforming into The Joker for a few seconds.

“Jeez, don’t get worked up,” you smirk and blow the green hair off your face. “I’m looking for this guy, I know he’s here too.”

“Why are you looking for him?” Killer Croc punches his fists together, hoping he can twist your presence in his favor.

“I need him for breeding purposes,” you serenely admit as The Clown Prince of Crime rolls his eyes three padded rooms up from your present location.

“I told you before I can help with that,” Harvey Dent flips his coin in the air, not understanding why his offer was rejected numerous times.

“Me too!” The Riddler grins. “You should forget about the man that repeatedly refuses your advances and pick one of us,” the mastermind gestures at the cells containing prisoners willing to take on the task.

“I want him,” you revert to your human form, Mr. Freeze gasping with admiration: he’s been a fan for the past two years. “He’s the only male I’m compatible with for procreation on this continent and nobody else will do.”

“How do you know?” Deadshot addresses the burning question.

“I just know, ok?” you pout not wishing to get into details. “That’s why I’m here to bail him out. I helped his men clear the area so we can rescue the father of my future baby.”

“Ugghhhh,” a displeased and very loud protest is heard from The Joker’s cell.

“There you are,” you light up with the happiest smile and abandon the captives held in pretty boxes lined up on the south side of Arkham Asylum.

“Hey Y/N,” Jonathan Crane smacks his lips, “if you get me out of here also I’ll give you two millions.”

“I’ll give you double!” The Penguin shouts and Bane promises:

“I’ll give you three!”

The offers keep on pouring in and the shapeshifter is not a person to say no to easy money.

“Might as well,” you press the yellow buttons outside everyone’s incarceration chambers, leaving the best for last.

“Hiiii Mister Jooooker,” you drag the words and he grumbles, squeezing past you as soon as the glass slides enough for him to emerge from the cell.

“Shut up!” he barks and you couldn’t care less about his crabbiness.

“Your crew is waiting outside,” you giggle and turn into Frost, escorting the grouchy Clown in the direction of the exit you know it’s safe to take.

“Would you look at that?” The Shark teases, not being able to contain his laughter.

“Holy shit!” Panda tries to keep it together yet it’s impossible: the real Frost gives them a dismissing glare, annoyed Y/N is lovingly holding The Joker’s arm as they come down the stairs, definitely engaged in some sort of argument.

“That’s obviously not me!” Jonny mutters and there are more disrespectful remarks from the henchmen patiently waiting for their boss.

“It’s still funny as hell!” Richard underlines and swallows his sentence when Y/N posing as Frost kisses The Joker’s cheek.

“One more sound out of you jerks and I’ll bash your brains in!” Jonny threatens because he’s sick and tired of Y/N playing charades at his expense.

Thankfully you switch to your old self immediately after but the team is glad they’ll have something to tease Frost with in the weeks to come. Although it can be overdone: under the apparent calmness he has quite a wretched temper.

“Delivered as agreed,” you cheerfully announce to his gang and follow J even if he’s not thrilled about it.

“Get lost!” he angrily stomps, pushing you away when you grab his hand again.

“Stop being so rude!” you remodel your body after his and he takes a deep breath, staring back at another fabulous J courtesy of Y/N.

“Stop mimicking me!!!” he sneers and Panda comments in a low tone, convinced he’s far behind to safely say it:

“Two Jokers. God Forbids!”

A couple of goons nearby snicker and the amusement abruptly halts when you raise your voice:

“I heard that!!!”

“Huh?” J inquires.

You just lift your shoulders up, not wanting to distract him from what he has to focus on: making sure he fulfils your demand.

The First Lock  

“You’re still here?!” The King of Gotham comes out of the bathroom, intensely drying his wet hair with a towel. “I thought that by the time I’m out of the shower you’ll be gone.”

You gaze at his naked body, reckoning it’s a nice coincidence to be compatible with such a beautiful specimen. Could be much worse.

“Why don’t you want to help me?” you ask and The Joker is aware what you’re referring to. “I’ve been begging you for a year; I must emphasize I’m losing hope and I will probably have to move to another continent in order to find a new prototype that could give me an heir.”

“Not my problem. Why do you want a kid?” he tosses the towel on the floor and digs around in the closet for a pair of boxers.

“So I won’t be alone,” the disarming reply makes him tilt his head to analyze the stubborn metahuman that pesters him on a regular basis about crap he doesn’t give a damn about. “The storm is coming,” you shift the subject when the lighting strikes the dark skies in the distance at 1:23 in the morning.

J gulps, uneasy: he saw the 6 feet creature for a split second and it certainly startled him.

“Apologies, Mister Joker,” you try to fix the mistake because it’s evident his reaction is below excitement standards. “The fire bolt must have projected my true nature. You only tolerate the pretty side, don’t you?” the sadness in your demeanor confuses J. “They all do…” Y/N whispers to herself. “Is this better?” you transform into Poison Ivy, then Cat Woman, then a random blonde girl with big boobs; by the seventh option The Joker had enough.

“Cut it out!” he finally finds his favorite underwear and you stand by the bed, opting out to be your human self for his sake.

“Can you please help me?” a disappointed woman pleads since he’s getting ready to go to sleep.

“Why would I help you?” The Joker snaps, hoping you’ll disappear from the premises and let him rest at the mansion he found refuge at after breaking out of Arkham.

Your eyes get teary and he never saw you show any type of weakness before; it’s sort of uncomfortable even for him.

“Because us freaks have to stick together.”

“Speak for yourself!” J gets mad at your affirmation and doesn’t know how to react to the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Mmmmm,” he debates, deep in thought: the insane Clown was captive for almost three months and a half and they surely don’t allow any conjugal visits in that shithole. Not that he has anybody in particular that would come to tend to his urges.

“If I help you,” the sudden switch in mood makes you pay attention, “will you quit bothering me?”

“Y-yes, of course! I swear!” you wipe your eyes, full of hope for once. “Since we’re a match it will only take one time! I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

You watch J take off his boxers and don’t blink when he yanks you in his arms, afraid he might change his mind: he’s not the most well balanced individual on the planet.

“No kissing,” you dodge his lips. “I only need the technical stuff.”

He gives you a cold stare, fed up with the infernal plague:

“You don’t get to make any other requests!” The Joker pulls you into a passionate kiss that unexpectedly shatters the first lock of your heart.

“Wait, wait…” you part from his soft lips, kind of drunk on the intimacy. “Did you hear that?!”

“Hear what?” he shoves Y/N on the bed and slowly crawls on top of her.

“That deafening noise.”

“Nope,” J purrs while carefully listening anyway. A strong thunder shakes the ground and he grins: “I heard it.”

“Not that, it was something else,” you attempt to explain and he buries his face in your cleavage, protesting the unwanted dialogue: 

“After chewing my ears for months, less yapping would be nice!”

You smile, delighted to have tricked The Joker with your fake tears; you sure counted on him being trapped inside the Asylum without any feminine presence to grace his existence and it payed off in the end. Making yourself available when nobody else is around brought the desired outcome: Y/N always gets what she wants.  

************

The Joker moans in his dream, unhappy with your wiggling.

“What is it?” he cuddles up to your body and it feels soft.

“I’m pregnant,” you yawn and he puffs in disbelief.

“Already?... We had sex a couple of hours ago.”

“U-hum,” you say and let him caress your skin, unaware your true essence peeked from behind the human shell. “It shouldn’t take too long. By morning I will have my heir.”

“That fast?” J opens his eyes since the pillow talk is actually interesting.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice I’m different,” you hum with your eyes closed, exhausted from the energy you have to channel into the tiny life growing inside your womb. The soon to be mother is so impatient she won’t skip accelerating the process at the expense of her own vitality.

“No kidding,” The King of Gotham mumbles, smitten with the apparition peacefully dozing off in his arms. The storm outside is wreaking havoc and each time lightning illuminates the blackness J can inspect the delicate feathers covering your body: when he touches you they change colors, red butterflies flying out of the pressed skin. He curiously pokes one and the illusion shatters into glowing dust resembling small fireworks.

The Joker has no clue that he is the first soul to ever see you like this; earlier he didn’t have the opportunity to comprehend what he saw, but he’s sure taking advantage of the situation now to understand what he’s looking at.

“Oh,” he touches your tummy that seems to expand with each passing moment: something is moving and he foolishly smirks without realizing.

Whatever is developing inside Y/N he helped create and strangely enough he can’t wait to see the result.

************

The Second Lock

J drags his feet on the wet grass, watching you admire the sunrise. He woke up and the bed was empty: made him wonder if you vanished without a trace. Yet there you are, waiting for him in the backyard since you figured you owe him this much.

“Mister Joker,” you chuckle, holding something wrapped up in a blanket. “I’m off to my house: thank you for participating in this project,” the indifferent metahuman blurs out: it’s the only speech she prepared. “I requested that everyone owing me money from last night should send it here,” you gesture at the huge duffel bag at your feet. “There’s 35 million dollars in here, all yours as a thank you for helping me.”

“Hm?” he crinkles his nose, insulted at the gift. “Do I look like a prostitute?!”

Why is he getting angry?... That’s a lot of money for a one night stand.

“They get paid for sex, don’t they?” he enlightens the puzzled Y/N. “What’s that?” J nods at the bundle you gently rock.

“My baby.”

“You gave birth?!” he forgets his hurt pride, not believing it’s already done.

“Yes, about 45 minutes ago,” you kiss your daughter’s forehead and her innocence makes your chest tightly constrict before the second lock of your heart is broken to pieces. “Did you hear that?” you interrogate the man you don’t need anymore.

“Hear what?” The Joker rushes to glimpse at the newborn as you step back, discontent he’s trying to take her.

“That horrifying bang! How can you not hear it?!”

“I have no idea what you’re rambling about,” he forcefully snatches the baby from Y/N’s embrace, grunting at her resistance. “Gimme, I wanna check out what I made!”

He parts the blanket aside and…

“Waaaaah,” the mesmerized parent holds his breath:

The sweet angel has wings embedded with neon green feathers, the same shade as J’s crazy hair.

“Are you done?” you attempt to reacquire your treasure and he slaps your arm.

“Little bird…” J runs his fingers along her wings and the mini-metahuman fusses a bit, already establishing a connection with her dad.

That’s exactly what you’re trying to avoid before it’s too late.

“Mister Joker, I have to go, ok??!!” you seek to remove the baby from her father.

“Stop bothering me!” he sucks on his teeth and begins striding towards the mansion while the panicked Y/N runs behind him.

“What are you doing? Give her back!”

“What should we name her?” The Joker ignores your outburst, totally struck with this overwhelming emotion washing over him.

Oh no, she’s already getting under his skin!

“WE?!” you shout, exasperated. “This is MY descendant!”

“You said I participated in the project so she’s half mine!” The Clown implies the obvious.“I think we should name her Emma, I always liked that name,” he adds to Y/N’s dismay. “Pretty bird…” J shuts you down as soon as you open your mouth to protest, stroking his daughter’s feathers.

He’s already addicted and this is a complete disaster!

“I’ll tell my boys to get baby supplies,” he decides without taking into consideration any opinions you might have about his plan.

“Why?!” you cringe at the proposal simply because The Joker is not part of the equation; but your daughter is already bonding with him and that’s something mommy can’t break: she has her own will and set of abilities enabling her to already make choices. You’re not sure why she’s making him believe he could be included into a two party family; there’s no space for a third, otherwise it would be a three party family and that won’t work.

“Don’t you need supplies for her?” he enters the master bedroom where the infant was conceived only hours ago.

You’re still on the patio, fuming at his absurdities.

“No, I have to go home! I’ll take care of it! Listen Mister Joker, I’m not expecting anything from you! ” you underline the truth and his witty response baffles Y/N:

“I was sure expected though to get naked and have sex right after escaping Arkham, huh?!” and The Joker protectively covers his daughter’s ears, his messed up brain figuring out she shouldn’t hear that. “Where’s home anyway, huh?” the tirade continues.

“That’s none of your business!” you shriek and he repositions Emma in his arms, preparing to lecture her mother when he gets distracted by the growth spur.

“Did she just get…bigger??!!!”

“Yes,” you join him in the middle of the room, explaining things you shouldn’t because frankly you should be at your residence by now. “She’s using capabilities inherited from me in order to speed up her evolution and then take a break to recharge around one year old landmark.”

“Fascinating,” J gushes while placing Emma on the couch: the baby is napping, not bothered by the quarrel anymore. “Wait here; I’ll go instruct my men on what we need.”

This is the limit to make you lose your marbles.

“There. Is. No. WE!” you thud on the wood floor and The Joker watches you get taller and taller until you can barely fit under the vaulted ceiling, electing to show him what he’s messing with. The metahuman transforms into the nightmare she really is: dark and sinister, covered in black feathers with sharp, long claws and fangs ready to tear apart the human trespassing a fine line.

That’s not what The Clown saw last night: you keep the beast caged but now IT needs to come out, otherwise he won’t understand the seriousness of his circumstances.

“You are not needed!” your heavy steps make the ground shake. “You are not wanted!” you corner The Joker between the table and the couch Emma is resting on. “Don’t stay in my way or you’ll regret it!!!! I’m taking my daughter and we’ll go: don’t try to stop me or I’ll kill you!!!” and you bend over to snarl in his face, prepared to shred him to pieces.

Eerie silence while J is gathering all his strength to put up with the fucked up events leading to this moment.  

“You two can’t go,” he straightness his back, so stiff one could think he swallowed a broomstick.

“Why not?” you smell his skin, antagonized.

The Joker tries to look as imposing as possible but he’s still half your size; nothing else in his mind besides some words of wisdom he’s about to repeat:

“Because us freaks have to stick together.”

You unravel your tusks, displeased with his strategy:

“Speak for yourself!”

That went down the drain fast, J thinks while the hideous mug a few inches away from his face doesn’t bulge. His eyes wander off to the sofa and he gasps:

“Where’s the baby?!”

A sharp claw points towards the ceiling and he looks up only to notice Emma snuggling in her blanket.

“Oh my God!” his eyes get big. “What is she doing there?!”

“Snoozing!”

“She’s gonna fall!” The Joker circles around you, worried about the angel.

“She’s not going to fall; she’s comfortable,” you huff and reach to caress her.

“Where are the wings?!” J glares at the gigantic mother tending to her peculiar offspring.

How many people have witnessed such bizarre sight? NONE. And yet The Clown is asking questions without a trace of disgust or judgement; only pure curiosity.

“They’ll come and go, she can’t fully control them yet.”

“Can you…can you turn into your usual self?” he suggests. “You’re very ugly like this and it’s spooking me out.”

“Do you know you’re interested in us because she’s making you?” the monster bites without using her fangs. “You’re useless, yet she wants you around.”

“Oh yeah?” The Joker’s attitude escalates despite the sticky context. “You’re useless also since you chased me until I slept with you; she exists thanks to my help! You should be ecstatic!!”

“Money is not enough?!” you gradually switch to the Y/N he’s familiar with even if you’re still mad.

“I have money,” The King of Gotham pretends not to be relieved by the welcomed transmutation.

“Then what do you want?” you attempt to compromise for your daughter’s sake.

“My birds,” he calmly admits.

You debate on his stupid reply: is J deaf and didn’t catch the memo?! He might be because he keeps on telling you he didn’t discern the odd, loud noises you heard twice so far.

You are not aware it would be such a blessing to hear those sounds again: it could mean the unconventional family Emma is trying to keep together might actually work.    

Also read: MASTERLIST

Diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Reunion

Pairing: Jeremiah Valeska x Nic Valeska

Word Count: 2442

AU: Dark

Summary: Ten years after Jeremiah is thrown into Arkham he escapes, and the first people he visits his wife and children…

A/N: This is based off an RP I did with @dancing-with-skeletons a long time ago. Basically Jeremiah never falls into the acid in this au

It was exactly 10 years to the day since Nic last saw her husband. She remembers how hard it was to adjust coming to terms with having to raise their twins by herself. Since the trial, since his incarceration, Nic had no contact with Jeremiah as per the agreement she made with the DA, a condition that let her keep custody of the twins and not send her to Blackgate. It hurt, even still. Not being able to let her husband know how the twins were doing. She wrote him letters and took pictures, none of which she ever sent. Jim had offered once to take the package to Arkham, that there was no harm in him participating as a proxy for a brief period. While she appreciated the offer, Nic couldn’t stomach the thought that all of Jeremiah’s knowledge on the development of their children would be coming from a box and not in person. He would never know that Sarah and Tiberius’s first words were “dada” or that Sarah took her first steps at 10 months, much quicker than her pediatrician had expected. He would never know that Sarah was top of her class, or that Tiberius had just recently joined the robotics team. Jeremiah would never get to see how much the twins looked like him, something Nic constantly reminded them. She’d always tell the twins how they had their father’s hair, and that Sarah had his eyes, or that Tiberius looked almost identical to Jeremiah at that age.

In the 10 years she spent without Jeremiah, Nic developed a nightly routine. Every night, after the twins were put to sleep, she would sit in her bedroom and write. She’d write to Jeremiah about what transpired that day, how much she wished he was there and how she hopes that one day she’ll see him again. After the letter was finished, stained with her tears, she’d date it and fold it up, placing it in the box with the other letters and pictures. The box was hidden in her closet, a place the twins would never find it.

It was late, close to 10pm, when she was getting ready for bed. Nic wasn’t aware that the front door to the house had been picked and was slowly opening and closing. She wasn’t aware that someone was coming up the stairs and noticed the bathroom light on. But the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the figure stayed in the darkness, staring into the bathroom. She tried to ignore the quickness of her pulse, assuming it was due to the thoughts that filled her head all day.

“You still look beautiful, darling.” Came a voice from the darkness.

Nic froze, her brush in her hair as she paused. Her eyes widened, tears pooling in her eyes. No. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be.

“You grew your hair out.” There was a soft chuckle. “I always remember you hating it long. What changed, darling?”

She finished brushing her hair, setting the brush down on the counter. “You should leave, Jeremiah.”

He stepped into the doorway, the lighting revealing him to her. It was no surprise he aged as she did, but her heart still stopped. Even after all these years, he still looked handsome. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“When did you escape Arkham?” She asked, tying her hair up with a scrunchie.

“Hours ago.” He replied, taking a step closer. She tensed slightly at his close proximity, especially when he stood behind her and she felt his hands on her waist. “I needed to see you.”

“Jeremiah… please leave.” She said meekly, not having the heart to look at his reflection in the mirror. She didn’t need to look to know he had a soft smile on his face as he looked at her.

“Are you sure you want that?” He asked. “I’ve missed you, Nic.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I missed you too, Miah.” Her knuckles gripped the sink. “But you really need to leave. The police—”

“—cannot stop me from seeing my wife and children.”

“I… I can’t lose you. Not again.” She whispered. Her knuckles had gone white from her grip. “It’s been so hard without you, Miah. Raising the twins… I needed you. And I’m so sorry I haven’t told you about them. I couldn’t. If I did… if I did, they’d take them away. I already lost you. I couldn’t lose our babies.”

Jeremiah pulled her to face him, and he cupped her face in his hands. He wiped away the tears running down her cheeks with his thumbs. “I promise you, dear, that won’t happen. I won’t let it.”

She covered his hand with hers. “I missed you so much, pumpkin.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. She leaned into him, her free hand finding its way to his belt. She tugged on it, attempting to pull him as close to her as physically possible. “I love you, my darling.”

She smiled against his lips. “I love you too.” Then she frowned. “The kids… last time you saw them they could barely sit on their own.”

“I imagine they aren’t babies anymore.” He chuckled.

“They’ve gotten so big.” She gave him a sad smile. “Would you like to meet them?”

Jeremiah blinked, taken aback by her question. He honestly wasn’t expecting that, not so suddenly at least. He was hoping for a little more time with his wife before he got to meet his children. But he smiled, kissing her head. “I’d love to.” Nic took his hand, lacing her fingers with his and pulling him from the bathroom. They headed down the hall and stopped in front of a bedroom door that said “Twins’ Room” in bold, rainbow letters.

“They should be asleep,” she whispered to Jeremiah. Her hand reached for the knob and she slowly opened the door. The moonlight shone through the window, and there was a small night light on between the twins’ beds. They were each curled up on their separate beds opposite of each other. Nic quietly stepped into the room, careful not to walk on any of Sarah’s discarded legos or Tiberius’s drawings. She tiptoed over to Sarah’s bed, kneeling beside it. Nic gently brushed some ginger hair from her daughter’s face. “Gingerbread? Wake up, sweetheart.” Sarah slowly opened her eyes, a small whine escaping.

“Mama?” She questioned, puzzled why her mother was waking her up. Nic didn’t reply, only kissing Sarah’s head and creeping over to do the same with Tiberius. Sarah took her glasses from its place under her pillow and put them on. Nic flipped the light switch by the door and the lights came on. The twins rubbed their eyes.

“Kids, someone wants to meet you.” Nic announced, looking towards Jeremiah at his spot in the hallway. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of the reaction he’d receive from them. He wasn’t even sure they knew who he was. Nic gave him a small encouraging smile, and that was enough for him. Jeremiah walked into the doorway, and the twins’ faces lit up. They recognized him from the pictures their mother showed them.

“Daddy!” They both shouted, jumping from their separate beds and running towards him at full speed. The moment they attached themselves to either of his legs, Jeremiah had to grip the doorway to keep from being knocked over.

That was not the greeting he had expected. Yet, he felt relieved they knew him. He bent down, pulling them into his chest and he hugged them tightly. Sarah and Tiberius hugged back, neither one losing the grin on their face. Jeremiah pressed a kiss to their heads.

“You’re home!” Tiberius grinned.

“I am.” Jeremiah nodded, smiling at his son. “And I’m not leaving. I promise.”

“Daddy, where have you been?” Sarah asked. Nic chuckled lightly from her spot in the room. Sarah was always the inquisitive one.

“Away,” Jeremiah said. “But I’m here now.” He kissed each of their heads again. “I love you both so much.”

“I love you too, daddy.” Both twins replied, happily hugging him tighter. Jeremiah could have stayed like forever.

“It’s time to go back to bed.” Nic said. She didn’t want to end the moment, she truly didn’t, but she’s dealt with the twins when they’re sleep deprived and tired. She wanted them to get rest for the next day. “Don’t worry, though, your father will be here in the morning. You’ll get to spend more time with him.” She smiled.

“Can he tuck us in?” Tiberius asked, peering up at his mother. He didn’t have to give her the puppy eyes, but he did it anyway for added effect. It worked.

“Of course he can.” Nic replied.

Jeremiah tucked each of the twins in bed, kissing them goodnight and saying he’d see them in the morning. They were satisfied with that, and Sarah, as always, fell asleep as soon as her eyes were closed.

Nic shut off the light, leaving the only sources being the moon and their night light. She closed the door once she and Jeremiah were out of the room. She took his hand and led him down to her bedroom, closing the door once they were inside. It was a mostly barren room, only the bed and her closet and a single dresser. There were pictures hung on the wall, some of Jeremiah long before everything occurred, others of the twins at various ages. Jeremiah sat on the edge of the bed, taking in everything.

There was a tinge of guilt in his chest as he watched Nic rifle through her closet for something. He was the cause of all this. Had he not done what he did, he would have been able to raise the twins with Nic. They would’ve had the family they talked about so long ago. They would be much happier than they were now.

Nic sat beside him on the bed, a small box in her lap.

“What’s that?” Jeremiah asked her.

Nic scooted over, placing it between them. “Something I made for you.” Her voice was shaky as she spoke, she sniffled as she lifted the lid off the box. Inside were many letters, and pictures as well. They were mostly of the twins, a few of Nic with the twins. She picked up one of the pictures and showed it to Jeremiah. It was a more recent photo, he could tell, as the twins looked about the same age they are now. However, they were dressed as Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s monster. “This is from Halloween.” Nic gave him a small smile. “Sarah got to choose their costumes this year, and she wanted to be Frankenstein.”

Jeremiah smiles softly. “And you?”

Nic laughed. “I was Igor.” She placed the picture down and pulled out another one. It was the twins by the Gotham pier, both holding fishing rods with small fish attached to the hooks. “Every summer I’ve been taking the twins fishing. They love it so much.”

“They look so much like you.” Jeremiah commented. He remembers back in school, the first time he ever saw Nic fishing. She had a bright smile on her face, just as the twins did in the photo. “They have your smile.”

“And they have your freckles.” She replied. “And your hair, Sarah has your eyes, Tiberius has your face…”

“Sarah also has your nose,” he pointed out playfully.

Nic shook her head, smiling a little wider. “Sarah is so much like you. She’s brilliant and determined and she loves building things… She’s so much like you.”

“Tiberius seems to be a lot like you.”

Nic nodded. Her eyes fell to the box. “I wish you were here for all of it. Their first steps, their first words… Miah, their first words were ‘dada’.” She wiped away a stray tear. “Every year, I ask what they want for their birthday. Do you know what they told me every year without fail?” Jeremiah stayed silent, although he had a saddened hunch what the answer was. “All they wanted was their father. And every Christmas… I’d take them to see Santa and all they’d ask him for is for their father. It broke my heart every single time I heard that. I couldn’t tell them why you were away, just that you were and that you love them very much.”

Jeremiah pushed the box to the side, pulling Nic closer and hugging her to his chest. He rubbed her back as she let out the first of many sobs.

“And all I wanted was to have my husband home so we could be a family.” She whispered tearfully.

“I’m here now, darling, and I am never leaving you or the children.” He whispered, kissing her temple. “No one can ever force me to leave you ever again.”

“Miah, if the police find you—”

“They won’t,” he told her. “Because we’re leaving Gotham.”

She pulled away, tears still running down her cheeks, but Nic gave him a look of confusion. “We’re… what? Leaving Gotham?”

He nodded, taking her hands and squeezing them. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring. He was surprised to find that she still wore it, even after all these years. “We are leaving Gotham, somewhere the GCPD will never find us. Ecco is going to get us out of the city, and we’ll be free.”

She stared at him for a long moment. It was so sudden, Jeremiah coming back into her life and now leaving Gotham. It was almost overwhelming.

“But–but what about your work? Your–your plans for the city?” She asked. “Everything you worked for…”

“In due time, darling.” He grinned, kissing her cheek. He was thrilled to hear even after all she’s been through, Nic still supported his work. “With you back by my side, we can get back to work. And the children, well when the time comes, of course they’ll be our heirs. But we will be a family.”

A surge of excitement pulsed through her body. Nic grinned, the tears having stopped long ago. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow,” he told her. “Tonight, I want to be with my wife, and in the morning, spend time with my children.”

Nic leaned forward, kissing him passionately, her hands pulling at his tie. She leaned back, laying on the bed with Jeremiah on top of her. “It’s been ten years, love, I need to be with you. In every way.”

Jeremiah smirked, trailing kisses from her jaw to her neck. “As you wish, my Queen.”

[supernoondles]

2019

The last day of 2019 was also the day I fainted for the first time--a fitting metaphor for the year.

2019 was overall very emotionally taxing. This year was emotionally defined by falling intensely, deeply in love with someone (who is a very private person so I will try to be vague to respect that) and being in a lot of pain because of situations mostly outside of our control. There were a lot of intensely joyous moments, and a lot of intensely sad ones. Throughout it all I wish I had communicated better. I also made some bad decisions with another person I really loved and cared about that resulted in us growing apart. Do I think I grew from the experiences? For sure. Do I wish I could have come upon these realizations through a different course of action? Also yes. Am I fully healed from the experiences? Not really, but I've been getting better.

2019 was also very bad in terms of research. It was the 2nd year of my PhD. After I submitted my rotation project I basically felt stuck in the swamp of my advisors rejecting new project ideas for like literally half a year. This, combined with my high emotional volatility (partially due to starting birth control), made me really sad, unmotivated, and susceptible to self-blame. I definitely had high expectations for myself and became frustrated at my lack of progress and felt a lot of pressure from myself to get my shit together. I also felt incredibly bad after most advisor meetings and not supported by one of them to the point where I had to have a conversation with him about the lack of support (which was very scary)! Things started picking up, though, near the end of the year. I published a paper in collaboration with a former post-doc/now professor elsewhere whom I learned a lot from, and started finally building out another system. I also started mentoring an undergrad who at some point told me I helped him feel like he had something important to say and belong at Stanford for the first time and those words meant a lot to me. I think I'm continuing to refine what I value as research contributions and increasingly think about what it means to build systems that aren't used outside of the lab to satisfy the annual conference publishing cycle. I'm also starting to feel the pressure of doing work that follows a narrative rather than random projects that interest me.

Oh, I guess in terms of "program requirements," I did finish taking required classes, passed qualifying exams, and got a master's degree. But honestly those weren't hard at all nor do I think are externally valued in the larger research community, so I don't really celebrate them as accomplishments beyond surface level.

In 2019 I saw two different therapists. The first one was awful, I think directly influenced some of my bad decisions, and also didn't respect my gender identity??? The second one is a lot better and I'm grateful to see her, even if 90% of our sessions are just talking about my relationship (romantic/advisor) issues, which is something I want to move away from in the future. But I also feel incredibly privileged when relationship issues are the primary stressors in my life--I am grateful I feel equipped to handle other crap, like deadlines, and don't have to worry about my own health.

Those were the main things that have colored this year. We'll now move into the section of this post where I go through my photos to jog my memory of other events.

New years started a tradition of getting dim sum with Jasper, Matthew, and Michelle dear to my heart. My high school friend was also visiting and we all attended a really awesome new year's eve party. I was also going on a lot of dates and having a lot of good sex, which made me really happy, and at the same time crying all the time at work. In February I received probably the best gift anyone has ever given me and saw Panic! at the Disco, which I said in an end of the year group meeting was a good memory of my year (it was, to relive my scene days!). In March I roadtripped both to Marin (which I had never to been before, despite all my years in the bay) and LA for Wondercon; it was nice to both see high school friends and go on a trip with the boo. In April I went on a hike with my office which was probably the start of us all becoming closer (we are the social office in the wing now, which I take pride in! Also we draw a lot of Pokemon which warms my heart). In May I went to CHI in Glasgow and then to Paris afterward, and the entire experience was very weird and bad and also too many flights were canceled and/or missed and I vowed to not return to Europe for a while, but man do I love the noodles at Trois Fois plus de Piment. In June we hosted a double apartment party with my downstairs neighbors (side note: I am really appreciative of the place I live in, for the community, convenience, and large-ass space and will be really sad to be kicked out fall 2020) and I started a friendship important to me. I cat-sat for my advisor (the one who doesn't make me feel bad) twice. I went to Redwood State Park with my family and hosted a summer solstice celebration. Over the summer a friend I met in Paris back in 2017 moved in with me. I had a much needed escape from the bay to Seattle where I was reminded how abundant the world can be. I also went to Tahoe to celebrate my parents' anniversary, and really liked stumbling upon a smaller lake with a cheap boat rental. Then I became FOMO about the highly competitive Bay Area camping and did a last minute walk-in at Redwood Basin in Santa Cruz, which made me realize that I don't actually love camping (but was nice nonetheless). I ate an expensive meal at Commonwealth before they closed. For my birthday we made a friendship quilt and I served my favorite dish of cumin lamb but it was also 90 degrees in my apartment (I felt really bad and bought two fans afterwards). I started buying many cartoon frog plush after being gifted a $3.99 on sale Safeway frog (called Baby!). I went on Tinder dates (one of which was at a quaker yard sale marketed as Harvest Festival where I got a 1970s Kermit puppet for like $2) that largely went nowhere. My high school friend visited and we were both sad about break ups. I did Inktober before I went to New Orleans for a conference on Bourbon St where everything felt like it was coated in a sticky film of alcohol. I almost missed my flight home because I fell asleep in a sculpture garden but I had the most amazing Uber driver who snaked his way through traffic (oh and the flight was delayed by like 3 hours). I went to kind of embarrassing haunted houses and pumpkin patches over Halloween, but also had the most incredible bowl of ramen at Mensho. My whole office dressed up as Zootopia characters which warmed my furry heart. I spent like $120 on a Pokemon shirt. I started playing Arkham Horror and rekindled another friendship important to me. In November went on a road trip to Big Sur because again, I had to escape it all. For Christmas Eve dinner I roasted a duck for the first time (which was delicious). Shortly after I waited in line for 2 hours for a rollercoaster at Great America, which taught me the value of buying a fast pass because at this point in my life that money is worth it, and then waited 2 hours in line at the DMV to get a RealID (I had made an appointment, which was the fast pass).

Okay, now we move to the hobby section!

I got really into sewing in 2019, having received a sewing machine last Christmas. I made a Judy Hopps (which I wore to CrunchyRoll Expo) and Korok cosplay (Fanime), several unsuccessful garments, a crab bean bag, a dice bag, a fanny pack, and put hearts nipples on a jumpsuit.

Shows! I think I went to way fewer shows this year. The ones I can remember are Elephant Gym, Thom Yorke the night before I had an 8am flight, Carly Rae Jepsen over pride weekend (also, she is my #1 artist of the year, which makes a lot of sense given my emotional space), Mitski at Stern Grove, Capitol Hill Bloc Party (which was super lame, except for Lizzo, where I cried), and the National (which was a fucking surreal experience as they played on Stanford's campus, I was the only one within earshot of myself who knew the words to Crybaby Geeks, and then the white catalog moms came up to me after to thank me for singing the song).

I also started playing my own music! I started playing viola again for the first time in 7 years (lol) in both pop-up concerts with the Awesome Orchestra (one in Golden Gate Park, one at the Exploratorium) and a string quartet through my school. Sometimes I am filled with joy and delight. Other times interpersonal tensions run high and also I am very bad at being in tune. It's life.

Media! I really liked Mob Psycho 100 Season 2 and Beastars. I feel like those were the only notable anime I watched this year? I saw the Farewell three times--first in Seattle where I sobbed for like 1 hour after the movie, the second time with my parents, and the third where Awkwafina was present for a Q&A. I thought Parasite was incredible and Promare was OK. I have spent an unfortunately large amount of my time playing Pokemon Masters. I finally beat BOTW and completed my Pokedex in Shield like 2 weeks after getting the game.

Resolutions! In my draft of my 2018 end of year post (which I never polished and posted, sorry), I said my resolutions were 1. come out to my parents 2. draw enough to table at an anime con 3. be disciplined about paper reading and have a doc. I did none of these things!!! However, for 1, I feel like I am well equipped to have this conversation but am waiting for my sibling to do it first out of respect. 2 was just bad. I barely drew this year except for gifts. 3 was okay--I did have a large doc in the beginning of the year when I was looking for ideas, but as time went on I abandoned it (I also stopped reading papers, which I don't think you're supposed to do as a grad student...)

My resolutions this year are phrased as intentions (-(c) Matthew). They span several categories. Relationships: I want to open myself to and actively seek experiences of love, because I miss that. That being said, I will only date someone if 1. they have their life together 2. they love themselves and 3. they challenge me to grow. (I do think you can experience love without dating; the thing I'm after is love in an expansive sense.) Work: I want to do enough work so I don't feel guilty about not doing enough work, and also not berate myself for taking a long time to do things. Hobbies: I want to sew at least one thing a month. Chinese: I want to improve my Chinese, especially pronunciation.

Having written this 20 days into 2020, it's not been so bad so far. But I was also really happy in the beginning of 2019. Here's to no global maxima, a monotonically increasing year!

[chibinightowl]

10. “Poppycock! No fool could ever be that daft to actually go through with it!”, Bruce/Clark but its Bruce who says poppycock.

I swear, I have started and failed this prompt about half a dozen times. I even built an entire Holmesian AU in my head around it. And yet, what do I end up with? This. I hope you enjoy! (also, love your icon! Asmo is amazing!)

(also, for the anon who asked for #10 with Alfred and Bruce, this is also your response too!)

~*~*~

There was nothing quite like the glitz and glamor of a charity auction hosted by the Wayne Foundation, Clark decided. These sort of puff pieces were beneath a reporter of his caliber, but he appreciated covering events hosted by Bruce because he knew that not only were the funds being raised going to the right places, but that the majority of the costs associated with hosting this were covered by Bruce himself.

Whether they were tax deductible, he’d yet to discover.

Lingering near the canapé table, Clark dutifully took notes for the article that was already mostly written in his head. All he needed were a few quotes from the people who really mattered rather than the attention seekers attracted by his visible press pass. His hearing told him that Tim wasn’t too far and that Bruce was perhaps a few meters beyond his son.

Tim was always good for an honest statement at an event like this, touching on the meaningful points of what his adopted father’s foundation was currently doing. With the right questions, Clark was sure he could learn more about Tim’s own Neon Knights program and how that was progressing.

But, meaningful as that was, it didn’t sell papers or keep people renewing their online subscriptions.

No, what sold papers were the antics of Brucie Wayne, billionaire playboy and philanthropist.

And just like Bruce’s children, Clark really disliked dealing with the Brucie persona that was always in full effect when the public was watching. Nearly two decades hadn’t lessened it in the slightest.

Deciding it was best to get it over with, he made his way through the crowd with his own act of mild mannered reporter who was a tad bit clumsy on display.

As he moved into the periphery of Bruce’s circle of sycophants, Clark noticed that Brucie seemed to be in rare form tonight. To the outside world, there was absolutely nothing going on behind those pale blue eyes. Wide and vapid, they matched his laugh, his smile, his everything.

Brucie was in the middle of a story and gesturing with great enthusiasm. “…And then Alfred said Poppycock! No fool could ever be that daft to actually go through with it! Well, I’m no fool and Dickie had already done it, so I figured I could too.”

Clark zoned out as he tried to maneuver closer, already familiar with the real story about how Dick took it upon himself to try walking a tightrope strung up between two large Las Vegas hotels. Bruce’s public version though explains how he ended up with that broken leg a couple months ago.

The crowd was too tight around Bruce, so he decided hitting up Tim would be the better option. If he was lucky, Brucie would pull some ridiculous stunt before he left that could be added into his article.

No sooner had he turned his sights on Tim, a large hand thumped solidly on the back of his shoulder. “Well, well, well, would you look who’s here?”

It was Bruce.

“Hello there, Nebraska.”

Clark tossed a prayer into the ether for patience. “It’s Kansas.”

“Right, right. I’ll remember next time, Iowa.” Brucie grinned vapidly but Clark didn’t miss the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Someone wanted to play. Damn, and here he’d been hoping that if he did speak with Bruce, he’d take pity on him and make it easy. No such luck tonight.

“Mr. Wayne, congratulations on the turnout tonight. How much are you and the Wayne Foundation anticipating this auction will raise for the Boys and Girls Clubs of the Greater Gotham City area?”

“Ugh, numbers.” Bruce pulled a disgusted face as he looped an arm over Clark’s shoulders and started leading him away. “I hate numbers. They’re so…numbery. Who even invented them anyway?”

“The current number system we use originally evolved from the Hindus by way of the Arabs —“ Clark was cut off with a broad wave of Bruce’s hand that almost hit him in the face.

“If I wanted a history lesson, Smallville, I’d have asked for one.”

Well, at least he was using the right town now. It was better than farm boy, which was probably coming up as Bruce cycled through all his nicknames. The list was long and Clark swore that Lois and Bruce must have a master list that they shared because some of them were just too crazy for them to have come up with on their own.

Clark sighed and pushed his glasses firmly onto his nose. “Mr. Wayne, if you could just give me a brief statement about the auction, I can get out of your hair.”

“Hmm, and go bother Timothy instead?” A brief flash of Bruce’s usual wry humor appeared in his eyes. “No, I think that —”

This time, Bruce was cut off as a well-dressed socialite appeared out of nowhere and tossed champagne right in his face.

“How could you, Brucie?” the brunette wailed, eyes welling with tears so big her makeup was already starting to run. “I thought you said I was special.”

Only with his super hearing could Clark hear the low Fuck that escaped from his friend.

“Anita!” Bruce said smoothly, completely ignoring the liquid streaming down his face. Already, there was a circle forming around them as people stopped to stare.

The woman wailed even more loudly. “That’s not my name!”

“Annie? Annabelle? Something that starts with an A?“

Clark stepped to the side to watch the drama unfold. And what a show it was, right out of a daytime soap opera. A jilted lover seeking public vindication that she’d been wronged in some hope of winning back the love of the one who wronged them. The backdrop of the hotel ballroom was the perfect touch too if by some chance this woman did manage to convince Bruce to speak with her in private. Perhaps in a hotel room upstairs. Like that was going to happen though. At this point in time, the playboy reputation was just that, a reputation, and had been for some time. Whoever this person was, they were trying to take advantage of that for their own gain.

Bruce and the woman were going around in circles, the woman getting more and more hysterical by the minute. The whole thing ended when she threw her empty glass and then herself at Bruce. A security guard caught hold of her before she could though. It took two of them to drag her away, still wailing and screaming.

“Well, that was entertaining.” Bruce smiled disarmingly at Clark. “I think you got your story now, Iowa.”

“I got something, that’s for sure. Have a good night, Mr. Wayne.”

It was past time to seek out Tim, get his quote, and get out of here.

~*~

Less than an hour later, Clark sat in his hotel room and typed up the story. A shower had gone a long way toward improving his mood, as had the comfortable pillows supporting his back as he wrote. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, which, considering the price tag for the room, it had better be. This kind of place was out of his budget, but wasn’t even a drop in the bucket for the man who was taking a shower of his own in the bathroom.

Bruce.

This was one of those rare nights where their schedules happened to coincide, that there wasn’t some disaster calling him away. The kids were all on patrol tonight, so unless there was an Arkham emergency, here they would stay until morning and life tore them apart once again.

Clark shook off his maudlin thoughts and kept writing. Work first. This was how his bills got paid. Fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop and he’d proofread the article twice by the time Bruce exited the bathroom, dressed in a bathrobe and his hair still damp.

“Almost done?” he asked as he took a seat on the other side of the large bed, swinging his legs up so that he could lay down.

“Just about.” Clark clicked on send and the article was off to Perry. “Tim was a huge help.”

“He always is.”

Setting the laptop aside, he took off his glasses and turned his attention on Bruce. The man looked exhausted, even more so than usual. “Rough week?”

Bruce rolled onto his side to face Clark. “Rough month. Don’t tell Alfred, but I probably shouldn’t have taken the cast off when I did.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He laid down and pointedly did not switch over to his x-ray vision to scan Bruce’s leg. It wouldn’t do any good for either of them. “Ready for bed?” he asked instead.

“We haven’t seen each other in person for three months. Do you really think I want to sleep?”

Clark sighed and traced one dark smudge under Bruce’s eye, then the other. They’d been hidden by concealer earlier. “These say otherwise.”

Bruce grabbed his hand and drew it to his mouth, lips ghosting over the large knuckles. “Those are never going away, Clark. Deal with it.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right. Now get over here and keep me awake.”

“And what if I want you to fall asleep on me?” Clark shifted around until he was pressed flush against the other man. 

It constantly amazed him that he and the oh so proud Batman were at a point in their lives where this was even possible. Twenty years ago, he’d have asked if the person suggesting it was feeling all right and done a quick scan of their brain to check for damage. Ten years ago, he would have wordlessly shrugged it off. Five years… well, time made for all the difference in the world. This was about as close to domestic as the two of them got. It hurt that it couldn’t be more, but with the lives they led, these quiet moments were more precious than gold.

“Shut up and kiss me, Clark.”

Laughing, he did just that.

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

I’M Coming Back For You - Pt. 2

Jerome Valeska x Winged!Reader 

A/N: IM BACK! I’m so happy! So so happy! 

I am definitely still taking requests, so please send them! I don’t have many ideas right now! I’m mostly uploading stories that I’ve already written that I want to transfer to this site!)  

Tags are open, so feel free to ask to be tagged in any of my stories! 

Please, please, please, PLEASE leave feedback!!! I love hearing from y’all! It makes my day!

Summary Kinda Thing/Original Imagine: Welp, there’s a curious Jerome and a who lot of filling.

Warnings: There aren’t really any warnings for this chapter. Maybe spoilers. I don’t know if it really counts. Anywho, this chapter is kind of a filler. I don’t know. It happened. Waffles.

Word Count:  1473 - Just The Story,  1606 - Total

 The next morning Jerome shuffled out of bed and made his way sleepily to the kitchen where he found you making waffles and dancing around the room while “Shape of You” played. The ginger had to hold back his laughter watching you bop all over the kitchen while putting a fresh waffle on a plate with three others that you had previously made. It was more adorable than funny to Jerome. 

You did another spin then froze in place, squeaking when you realized that Jerome had been watching you dance. You quickly and abruptly stopped dancing and closed your wings around you, trying to hide your embarrassed, blushing face.  

“How long have you been there?” You ask, tightly closing you eyes and tensing up your wings, preparing to cringe if he had been standing there for a long time. You hoped he hadn’t been.

“Long enough.” Jerome smirked upon seeing the suspicious look you gave him.

You didn’t like that response because that meant that he could have been standing there for thirty seconds, or thirty minutes, and you’d never know.  

“Anywho.” You continue, turning around again, letting your wings relax. “I’ve made waffles if you’d like. There’s butter, syrup, and whipped cream on the table. If you like peanut butter on your waffles then I can get that out for you as well.”  

“I think I’ll be good. Thank you though.”

You then brought the plate of waffles to the table and the of you ate in silence for the most part. There would be times when you would see a butterfly or something, and you would completely perk up; wings and all, then excitedly blurt out “Butterfly!” in a voice that Jerome found absolutely adorable. Other times you would start mumbling to yourself about what the plans for the day were, or something of that nature.

Once you were done eating, you stood and announced: “Well, breakfast was great, and you were privy to The Amazing (Y/N): Dancer and Cook.” You joked  and laughed a little as you put your used plate in the dishwasher. “Sadly, I have to go into work today. I tried calling last night to see if I could get someone to cover for me, but no one was available, so I’m afraid I have to leave. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright. Where do you work?” Jerome asked, suddenly curious about your day-to-day life.

“I’m currently working at the pet store that’s a few blocks away. I work in aquatics as the head of that department.” You explained, straightening out a feather that had gone awry as you grab your purse, coat, and car keys.  

“That’s interesting. When will you be back?”

“I’ll probably be home around four this afternoon. Until then, make yourself feel at home. Just don’t burn down the house!” You giggled a little and turned to open the door.

“Ill see you then! I make no promises about burning the house down, but I’ll try my best. See ya!” Jerome smiled at you as you headed out the door and to work.  

-Jerome’s POV-

She’s so sweet. I thought as I watched her leave. I couldn’t get enough. From the gentle tone of her voice, to her laugh, to the four crimson wings on her back that I almost desperately wanted to touch: She was addictive. I Couldn’t stop thinking about her, and, If I’m being honest, I didn’t want to. 

As I wandered around the house, not knowing what to do now, I took in everything I could. I saw the piano in the living room, and the old clock on top of it. She had a bunch of clocks. There were two in this room, one in the dining room, and a grandfather clock in the other living room-sized room that housed a pool table of all things.  

I wonder if she can play. I noted in my mind, looking at the clean green felt of the table, and thinking back to the piano in the other room.

Walking around this house made me want to ask her about herself. Why there were so many clocks, what the deal was with the pool table, why there was so much stained glass in her home. (It was everywhere!) Four o'clock couldn’t come fast enough.

Once I had done my fair share of exploring I decided to lay down on the couch and watch TV. It wasn’t the most exciting way to spend the day, but I didn’t know what else to do.

-- 

I woke up at the sound of the door opening. Funny, I don’t remember falling asleep. I looked to my watch to see that it was 4:25, and huge smile spread on my face as I turned to see (Y/N) hanging her coat on the coat rack.  

-Back to Third Person! -

You hung your coat on the rack, and let your purse down on the little table that was under it.  “I’m back!” You sang, noticing Jerome on the couch. 

“Hi.” He greeted with a small wave of his hand. 

You went to join him on the couch before asking how his day had been. 

“It was alright. I wandered around a bit, just taking in the house. I watched TV for a bit, and then fell asleep until you came home.” Jerome said, remembering the questions he had for you.  He was about to ask you about the insane number of clocks you had in your house, but he was beaten by your own question. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Your eyes went wide with concern, and you reached out to place a hand gently on his shoulder.

He found the concern strange, but he appreciated it. He had never really had anyone worry about his well being before. 

“I slept fine. I just don’t usually get a lot of sleep, so I took the chance.” Jerome explained, causing a look of pity or sympathy to cross across your face, and your wings to dip a little. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll leave you be if you’d like to sleep some more.” You quickly stood up to leave before Jerome reached out for your wrist, gently holding it so that you wouldn’t leave. 

“No, not at all. I was really just passing time, waiting for you to get home.” 

You didn’t say anything in return, but the look on your face told Jerome that that meant something to you. 

“I actually have a couple questions for you. I was looking around the house and I noticed that there were a fair few clocks. I was wondering why?” 

You just smiled and sat down, but before you could answer, there was a knock on your cherry red door that sounded either urgent or just angry.

You stood, and Jerome followed as you looked to the door with a confused look, your wings perking up from surprise. 

When you opened the door, you saw a cop whose eyes were dull and half-lidded. They seemed completely disinterested when they spoke to you. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” 

“Yes, that would be me.” You answer, noticing Jerome staying back from the door, growing nervous once again.  

“Is there a Mr. Jerome Valeska here?” The cop asks. 

“Um, yes. He just right here.” You explain softly, almost shyly. 

The cop barged in before you could show them where he was. 

“Mr. Jerome Valeska. You’re under arrest for suspicion of Lila Valeska’s murder.” The cop recited in a bored, but frustrated tone when they saw Jerome.  

“What?” Jerome asked with a confused tone filling his voice. “Something has to be wrong. I didn’t kill my mother. I...I couldn’t...”

“Listen, I was just told to bring you to the GCPD under suspicion of your mother’s murder.” The cop dully explained as if they just wanted to get this over with. 

Jerome sighed worriedly before answering the careless cop.

“Alright. Just let me say goodbye to (Y/N).”  

“You have five minutes.” Was the only response given before the strange cop left the room. You thought that that was strange. 

“I’m sorry. (Y/N).” Jerome apologized sincerely.

“It’s alright. Just know that you’re always welcome here. And, between you and me,” You motioned for him to come closer so you could whisper to him. “If you did do it; If you did murder your mother, you’re always welcome to hide out here once you escape. Ill make more waffles.” You finished with a devilish grin, and when you pulled back you saw that Jerome was smiling his own maniacal smile.

“Oh believe me darling. Once I get out, I’m coming back for you.”  

With that, the cop took Jerome away, and you were left to smirk at the next morning’s paper when you read about his arrest and sentence to Arkham.  

TAGS:

Forever and Always:

@blackirisposts​ @savvythedork​

Just For This Story:

@crimsonredcoco​ @childishmonster05​ @crazydcchick

TAGS:

Forever and Always:

@blackirisposts​ @savvythedork​

Just For This Story:

@crimsonredcoco​ @childishmonster05​ @crazydcchick

[iphoenixrising]

Masterlist v3

(It’s been a few months, so I thought this might be in order. Updated yet fricking again gaaaah!

AO3: Fracture (fanart!); Distractions, Forward Momentum (Avengers)

Tumblr

Poison-Basil’s Art:

iPhoenixrising (my wonderfully talented artist/writer babe literally made my spirit animal)

Fracture Chapter 1: It’s Tim asleep on the bathroom floor where Dick and Jay find him (God, it’s amazing >.<)

Fracture Chapter 29: The intense almost between Dick and Red

BABE MADE ME A WHIRLYBIRD

Detective!Dick, Red Hood!Tim au Art

Dr!Tim Art!!

No Home for Dead Birds: (Eventual Conner/Bart/Tim maybe)

Chapter I

Chapter II

Drabble

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X p1

Chapter X p2

Kon’s Drabble

Warning for mentions of suicide

NHDB What-If

The Red Hood

Dick Grayson

The Last Titan Standing

Redux (NSFW)

Tumblr Ask: Tim/Kon/Bart; warning for abuse of TTK, super-powers, and literally making Tim scream. All kinds of NSFW.

Chapter XI

What’s In a Name?

Tumblr Ask: Pride Parade

*Night Call (Tim/Jay Stripper Verse AU):

Part 1

Part 2 (NSFW)

Final Part: 3

*DC AOB Attempt (Omega Tim/ Alpha Dick/ Alpha Jay. Very Porn with Plot and Angst):

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6: The Demon’s Head: (Warnings: Tim/Ra’s non-con but the journey and subsequent revenge are oh so sweet.)

Part 7: Probably Finale with @satire-please

Ask from Tumblr: The Heat Fallout: (I wrote a follow-up to this…but it’s terrible and sweet, and I just never posted it >.<)

Ask from Tumblr: Two Alphas in Rut and one cute Omega (Very NSFW)

Ask from Tumblr: Pregnancy Scare

Ask from Tumblr: Bonding and Shit

Shameless PWP from Tumblr: Vibrators and whatnot      

Tim wearing the ‘Eat Me’ shirt Ask  

AOB Ask: Two Times Tim’s Alphas Needed Him and the One Time He Needed Them (some smut ensues; also part of the 500 Follower Post)

*Marvel AOB Attempt (Omega Tony/ Alpha Bucky/ Alpha Steve):  

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Night Sky (Possible future to the Fracture Verse, Tim/Older!Dami)

Ask

Drabble

Part 1

Part 2 (NSFW)

Part 3

Finale ( Warnings for things like Robinpiles and NSFW; that said, I’m absurdly proud of this smut)

Destroyed (a multiverse conglomeration of Bad Ass!Tim in a world where the Insurgents took over the planet):

Part 1

Part 2  (NSFW)

Part 3

(What if Tim doesn’t leave from Tumblr)

Justice is Blind AU (Blind!Tim):

Part I

Part II

Drabble

Ask fic

Part V

Drabble (beware of Superbats)

Angsty stuff that kind of goes together? (Before NHDB, this is the ‘Tim isn’t forgiving your ass’ realm from my brain pan):

Clean

Drabble

Realize

Meeting

Mistake

Forward Momentum Things

(MCU Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Tony)

Forward Momentum Drabble

Coffee

Observation

Dr!Tim:

Dr!Tim au: How it all Began (light NSFW) 

Follow-Up Drabble

Dr!Tim Drabbles: The Mentor; The Suit; Med School drab

Dick Grayson’s acrobatic talent (surprise, it’s smut)

Dr!Tim Drabbles: Stephanie Brown and Batgirl

Dr!Tim Drabble: The Joker (I really enjoy playing around with the baddies sometimes and the Joker was an interesting character)

Playing around with Submissive Dr!Tim (so much NSFW)

Dr!Tim Safewords out Ask;  Follow-up: Drabble: Sub-Drop (adult themes)

Dr!Tim: London Bridge is Falling Down (Bad ass Tim and a little hurt/comfort at the end)

Missing Scene from “London Bridge” (cute and a little angsty with Hurt Dr.!Tim and the L-word)

Post London Bridge Ask (guest starring Tony Stark)

Meet and Greet

Cute Dr. Tim taking care of overwrought Dick Ask (NSFW; adult themes)

Dr!Tim Ask: Arkham Riot      

Dr!Tim and Fracture!Tim Ask  

Dr!Tim and Overly Protective Robin      

Dr!Tim PTSD Ask (on the 500 Followers post)        

Dr!Tim Drabble: Robin (also on the 500 Followers post. I’m absurdly proud of this nsfw and Dr!Tim getting one night in the cape. Bad ass Dr. Drake is no slouch.) Also with the help of THIS ASK!

Follower Posts!

100 Followers! Night Sky Drabble with Tim and Older! Dami; Sleeping Tim Drabble; MCU Steve/Bucky/Tony drabble Hurt/Comfort; Cross-over au! Where Dick and Jay admit their feelings to Tim; NHDB depressing drabble (Dick/Tim);  

200 Followers! Tumblr Ask about Tim having scars from his childhood rather than as a vigilante; Justice is Blind Drabble: Tim and Lady Shiva; NHDB Prompt, sad Dick/Tim; Sick!Tony ask; Sad Ask: Red Robin Posthumous Award

300 Followers!: AOB Drabbles: The Pack (Cass and Fear Toxin) and Mating Bite; Body Swap: The Follow-Up (which I wasn’t really happy with but oh well); Fracture What-If Continuation for Anon; Dr!Tim Drabbles: Jay/Tim Fluff and Smut

400 Followers! : Dr. Tim: The Birthday Present, Robin’s Redemption (such a play on them both), Cross-Over AU! (Marvel Universe and Tim gets a second chance at being Robin), The Suit (shameless Dick/Tim)

500 Followers! Masterpost

Future au!

Part I: Pre-Fracture Tim and a little bit of time travel. How is going to take the “Night Sky” verse? (An attempt at making Fracture go full circle)

Part II: Continuation of lost Future Bats, mentions of Superbats, and attempts at coddling.  

Bat Prompts and Drabbles:

Hard Fracture What-If (featuring BatDad and intense feelings; what if B had picked up Red after the Insurgents Battle and brought him back to the Cave right then and there? Watch your feels)

Space Salvagers AU (Jay/Tim)             

Soulmate thing: Robins

Bodyswap (Dick & Tim); Body Swap: The Fallout                         

Concussion Confessions

The night the Flying Graysons Died     

Firefly Cross-Over for Tim Drake Week (Jason is Mal; Dick is Inara; Tim is Simon; Cass is Tam; Steph is Wash; Roy is Zoe, etc)

Of Owfucks and Accents

Worth the Wait (for Travelallover’s birthday): Based on Robin #10 NSFW Dick/Tim

De-Aged Jay (based on fanart)

Stalker Photos  

Dick/Jay/Tim Fluff: Tim being Tim Ask                            

 Graduation (maybe Fracture Verse)

Hilarity ensues

Jay/Tim Praise Kink  (NSFW)

Soulmate Ask (from the 500 Follower Post) and follow-up long post

Venom/Demon! Jay (Warning: it’s smut. Tim/Dick/Jay)

Detective!Dick, Red Hood!Tim au (for my babe @poison-basil)

NSFW Drab based of @curdleddoodle​ amazing art

Dick/Tim/Dami: (Older!Dami, some angst, some fluff)

Drabble 1 Lazy Mornings

Drabble 2: Left Standing (Tim angst and feels)

Drabble 3 Ra’s al Ghul gets the memo

Drabble 4 (Dami feels)

Old Fracture Drabbles:

Superbats What-If

Convergence: Bringing together all the Tims. (Just an idea I played around with: Dr!Tim, Fracture Tim, Destroyed Tim, Justice is Blind Tim, and Detective Comics Tim)

Injury/Healing for Tim Drake week (hilarity ensues; Tim is thwarted by Dick’s Sixth Sense)                                  

Holidays:

Cute Holiday Cheer,

Sad What-Could-Have-Happened Prompt based off this

Angst:

A NHDB kind of Verse,

'What if Dick didn't catch Tim when he fell through the window' Prompt (aftermath of Character Death), 

Jason v. the Pit and then I saw this

Tim is going to keep kicking ass

“I’ve already forgiven you, but I won’t make the same mistake twice” Ask (Dick Grayson & Tim Drake)

Fooled You Tim/Ra’s Valentine’s Day thing

Subdue (Tim/Ra’s non-con; be careful if you read this, tagged for triggers)

Silence: (Dark!Jason Todd, Tim Drake. Warning: Major Character Death)

Heavy in Your Arms Part I  Jason Todd angst; Based off the song with the same title by Florence + the Machine

Heavy in Your Arms Part II  

Kid!Tim fics (The Tiny!Tim universe):

Window Seat

Kid!Tim is discovered

Tiny!Tim and the Fever

Tiny!Tim and the Secret (From the 500 Follower Post)

Talon!Tim

Ask in which the idea of Talon!Tim became a thing

Talon!au Ask (in which babe wrote most of the thing)

Mer!Dick, Mer!Jay

Ask 1 (Mainly NSFW)

Ask 2 (in which I like it better if they speak Mer language they can’t understand each other; breeding kink, NSFW)

Crossover: Avengers/Bats

Tim stays in the MCU

And goes out as Robin                    

Tony Stark being a bro

Early NSFW (Please be advised):

Need (first in the DCU)

Prompt:  “ Here’s a nice image for you. Jason has Tim bent over the counter...” (I was so new to Tumblr, I just threw it up as quote LOL)

Voltron: (They all stink, please see @satire-please for better stuff)

Team Dynamics

Left Behind

Waking

You Not the Lion

Miraculous Ladybug

Play : Shameless Adrien/Ladybug, MariChat, and Adrinette (if only I covered LadyNoir. Damn) with fake identity porn and hetero smut.

The Way to His Heart: Not smut! But, an adorb reveal fic. Since Marinette is the first to realize how starved Adrien is and sets herself on rectifying that problem. Cue the same for Chat Noir. The ensuing revelation is sweet with a touch of angst.

Non-Fiction stuff (I guess?)

Writing

Writing Choices

A little bit about Jason Todd’s mouth (just some ramblings about how his accent kind of evolved

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Strictly Business Part 3

Hi guys, thanks for your patience on my writing!

Here's the next part  hope you enjoy!

As always, thank you for all the feedback I get and the really sweet messages people send me - you all keep me going so THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!! :D

As usual, if anyone wants to be tagged in any of my work let me know (and let me know which particular works you want to be tagged in - including if you want to be tagged in any new/future fics I might write)

And also, any requests - send them through, the more specific the better, but i'll take vague ones too! :D

Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

STRICTLY BUSINESS MASTERLIST

Once the police had given the room the all clear and we were free to resume our activities, I left. I wasn’t in the mood to be around these people anymore - after the only person’s company I had wanted was gone – and he’d been a psychopathic killer. So I headed straight home, leaving Mathew to continue his schmoozing by himself – he wouldn’t miss me anyway.

Once back at my flat, I made sure to lock the door behind me before I circled my flat, checking all the windows were down and securely latched – I wasn’t taking any chances. I doubted the Joker would choose to hit anywhere else tonight with the police now on high alerts for any sign of his whereabouts, but I couldn’t be too safe – I had tricked the man after all - even if I had then given him an escape route – and wasn’t sure how he would take it.

Once I was sure I had done what I could to make myself secure, I flicked the TV on as I headed towards the kitchen, grabbing the open bottle of wine from the fridge that I had started the night before. The news channel played behind me on the screen as I poured myself a glass of wine, the current story reporting on the restoration project underway at city hall.

The report finished, and the presenter now turned to the new big story – the live coverage of the tonight’s events. “At least 12 men have been arrested tonight at the St. George’s hotel -” I perked up instantly, grabbing my glass and turning to lean on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room area. “- after the police were tipped off by an anonymous caller about a possible hit planned on the two-hundred-year-old building. It was believed the men were working for the Arkham Asylum escapee and well-known crime lord known as Joker – their targets being the leaders and CEOs of many of Gotham’s multi-billion-dollar companies that were gathered in one of the large ballrooms for hire in the hotel.

“The criminals’ leader - the Joker - was unfortunately not apprehended at the event - reports from eye witness suggest the criminal clown had been residing in the ballroom chosen for the attack and escaped via the fire escape before police could arrive on the scene. The mentally unstable criminal was last seen making a getaway across the rooftops of the neighbouring buildings. Helicopters are believed to now be sweeping Gotham and police urge anyone with evidence or sightings if the villain to come forward, however extreme caution is urge and it is strongly encouraged to by no means confront the criminal. Detective De-“

I turned off the TV, not wanting to hear what that police had to say about it – doubting it would be much more than their usual promise to capture the criminals still at large which continued to terrorize the streets of Gotham – which of course they rarely fulfilled.

I was oddly relieved the Joker hadn’t been apprehended – though I had highly doubted that he would be, thanks to the exit route I had provided – the police not yet having time to organise themselves to cover the fire exit on the top floor. The Joker had obviously caught onto the idea I had and made sure to quickly stray from the stairs that led down to the street, instead remaining amongst the rooftops and disappearing into the night before air support had managed to arrive.

I down the rest of my wine glass quickly, dropping it into the sink for later and heading to bed. I remembered to grab a blanket out of the cupboard in the bedroom, tossing it onto the back of the sofa for Mathew when he finally got home.

It wasn’t that we couldn’t sleep in the same bed together – Mathew just rarely left the office before ten or eleven and events like tonight could leave him out till the early hours. When he did finally return to the flat, he had a habit of sitting down with a drink continuing to look through the papers he had brought back from the office until he fell asleep at his desk or on the sofa.

In an attempt to play the role of a supportive wife, I had tried to stay up with him a few times, but I had no wish to spend any more hours staring at numbers on a sheet of paper – getting enough of that during work. I couldn’t even talk to Mathew – he had no focus for anything his work and no conversation was possible that didn’t involve the recent profits or increased taxes and - even then -  he tended to be talking to himself.

The last few times I had tried to stay up with I wound up sat in the armchair next to him twiddling my thumb or reading till I dropped my book from exhaustion. It was a pointless exercise – Mathew didn’t care if I was there or not.

I had soon learnt I couldn’t change him and just made do with going to bed alone,  it wasn’t like I was a pathetic girl that needed her man next to her each night – hell I’d lived on my own for a long time, most of it in a far worst apartment, in a far worse neighbourhood.

And it wasn’t like I needed him for anything else – I had never found the man that attractive really and apart from our wedding night and whenever he felt like it – not that often – we really didn’t sleep together much either.

I had soon learnt that living with Mathew was like living with any other roommate. And that was kind of how I view our marriage. We were friends and roommates. Rarely lovers, never in love.

It wasn’t too bad, it suited us both fine.

Mathew wasn’t usually home when I went to bed - and he was usually gone before I woke up - so now I just left a blanket and a pillow on the sofa and left him to it. I wasn’t sure if he appreciated the gesture or not - having never heard a word from him about it. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he thought these items materialised of their own accord for him.

I sighed loudly as I threw his pillow across the room so it hit the couch – landing awkwardly on the cushion so it balanced dangerously on the edge, close to falling off - before I headed back into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.

 I woke the next morning to find the usual – a clearly slept-on sofa, the blanket thrown carelessly back and the pillow at some point knocked the floor. What never ceased to amaze me was how the sofa could be in such a mess, yet his suit was also neatly hung on the bathroom door across the room. I rolled my eyes when I spotted the jacket on its hanger, ignoring it as I tidied up the rest of the mess – he could put that away.

My usual morning routine went with a hitch, only finally hitting the first problem of the day when I headed down to my car which was parked in the underground carpark below my building.

My car wouldn’t start.

I frowned at it as I tried over and over again to start the engine, the car coughing and producing a feeble growl before it died once more.

“Errrr!” I growled at the steering wheel, clenching my teeth, “Come on!” I cried at it, smacking the edge of it. I glanced down at my watch – shit. I didn’t have time to get someone to come fix it right now - I hadn’t factored a broken down car into my morning and if I didn’t get on the road right now I’d be late my meeting at 9.

I smacked the wheel one more time, angrily grumbling at the useless contraption before I got out and headed onto the street above – I’d catch a cab and phone the repairman once I got to work to arrange for them to come by that evening to sort my car out.

I managed to hail a cab quite quickly and I slid into the back seat, calling the address to the driver, my attention already focused on my work phone where I had just refreshed my inbox and already had more emails than I could possibly read in a day. The taxi moved off as I settled into the well-worn seats, starting the huge job of responding to each message that truly needed my input.

I got so engrossed in a series of emails about a possible glitch in our systems, that I didn’t notice the journey or the scenery of Gotham that flew past us. It was only as I finally signed off on an email trying to clear things up, that I realised I felt as though I’d been in this car a lot longer than usual. I frowned to myself - maybe just answering the email had felt like forever. I glanced at the clock on my phone - I was late for my meeting.

“Shit.” I mumbled to myself. It was odd though, I didn’t remember us being stuck in that much traffic for me to be this late. I looked out my window try to figure out how much longer we would be.

That was even odder – hadn’t that been Gotham General we’d just past? It couldn’t be. The hospital was nearly on the other side of town to the INK building.

I kept my gaze out of the window as a few non-descript buildings flashed past. No, I had been right because there was the East-side bridge – I knew those larger, gothic pillars anywhere.

Shit. Maybe I’d said the wrong address in my rush? But where else would I have said? Maybe the driver had just heard me wrong?

“Um, excuse me?” I asked, leaning forward and peering across at the driver, his face hidden by his peculiar old fedora-like hat. “I think you must have the wrong address.” I said, trying to remain polite - though I was worrying about how I was going to save this meeting now I was already over 15 minutes late.

The car suddenly swerved across 2 lanes of traffic, and I was forced to grip the head rest of the empty chair in front of me to stop myself from flying.

“Change of plan doll face!” Came an all too familiar voice from the driver’s seat. “We’re going for a drive!” He exclaimed, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

I immediately jerked backwards and he let out a loud cackle, taking a hand off the wheel to remove the odd hat and reveal his vibrant green hair, ruffled and messy from the confinement. He looked up at the rear-mirror and met my eyes, his own shining in humour at the shock that must have been on my face. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place, though a few strands resisted and fell across his face. I could feel my heart pounding at the surprise and I tried to push myself as inconspicuously as possibly into the opposite corner of the car - I didn’t want him to know that I was terrified of being caught unawares with him in such an enclosed space – especially after I had managed to make a fool of him last night.

“You look like you’ve see a ghost, kitten,” He told me with mock worry, “Or maybe a clown!” He suggested, beaming widely at me through the mirror. I tried to regain my composure, remaining silent, but fixing him hard, unimpressed stare.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked firmly, not letting him get to me.

Joker rolled his eyes at me, dropping his smile, his gaze becoming hard and almost deadly as he suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing me to fly forward into the chair in front. Just as suddenly he then swerved to the left - throwing me to the opposite side of the car – and rapidly accelerated, undertaking a lorry before swinging back into the original lane once more.

He glanced back at the mirror, his grin back in place and so wide it almost made him look in pain, “Come on, doll – it’s a joke – laugh a little!” He beamed at me. I didn’t laugh though, just kept up my hard stare, refusing to be intimidated by his driving and refusing to look away even if his blue eyes weren’t holding mine in their iron grasp.

“You know I could just call the police, right?” I asked, waving my phone at him that was still in my hand.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, kitten,” He began before violently jerking the wheel to the right, then almost instantly jerking it back again – only just missing the car on our right - “I’m not exactly trying to hide!” He cried manically, swinging the car smoothly into the left lane and slamming his foot onto the accelerator, causing the engine to roar before we then shot forward.

Though I felt myself grip the car seat beneath me, I couldn’t help the thrill that ran through me – the wanton disregard for traffic laws and the reckless speed was exciting and quite an adrenaline rush – something I hadn’t experienced in years.

The Joker didn’t let up on the gas and we continued to speed down the streets, the Joker appearing to barely be in control of the car, yet still managing to avoid every car in the rush hour traffic – though some quite narrowly. I wasn’t sure how many car accidents we created in our wake as we flew down the road, but the adrenaline coursing through me was making it hard not to grin and a small voice in the back of my mind kept daring the Joker to go faster - almost intrigued at the thought of a collision - be it us or someone else.

Suddenly a red stop light appeared at the cross junction ahead of us and I watched in a mixture of fear and excitement as we barrelled down the main road to where traffic to the left and right were already flooding through, the Joker not letting up on our speed. I couldn’t see us stopping in time now if the Joker didn’t brake soon and I wanted to close my eyes but I couldn’t - too transfixed on the cars in front that were rushing up to meet us. Suddenly I was flung forward once more into the passenger seat in front of me as Joker slammed the brake on hard. I clung to the chair in front of me as we skidded to a halt exactly on the white line – only a few inches from the rest of the rushing traffic.

I didn’t realise I had been holding my breath but I let it go now in a short exhale as I unwrapped my fingers from where I had dug them into the passenger seat in front of me, my heart pounding erratically at the near-death experience.

“Besides, doll.” The Joker perked up from the front seat, looking completely unfazed at what had just happened. “I have a rag and a bottle of chloroform up here if you’re not willing to be my friend.” He grinned, wide and cheesy at me as though he hadn’t just threatened to knock me out. I was still recovering from the close call and didn’t say anything, just stared back at him warily as to whether he had been joking or not – I suspected not.

The light turned green in front of us and Joker hit the gas again causing the tires to screech and squeal underneath us before we accelerated viciously out into the junction. Joker swung the car to the right, causing the tail to flick out dangerously into the lane next to us and at least one car had to swerve to avoid us. I prayed the car could hold up the hell Joker was putting it through and the wheels not suddenly decide to burst under the fierce demands.

I settled back against my seat as we barrelled down a relatively open piece of road, the car falling into silence. I tried not to enjoy the freedom of the racing down the streets – knowing it was clearly illegal and wrong – instead trying to focus on a way out of this situation.

I had accepted there was nothing I could say or do to the Joker to get him to let me go and I watched the flats and offices blur past my window, my fingers anxiously fiddling with my phone that still sat in my hand as I tried to think. I looked down at the black screen and suddenly had a small piece of a plan. I place my phone down on the seat next to me so it was hidden between the car door and my leg, hopefully out of sight thanks to the shield of my thigh.

I glanced back up at the Joker to check he wasn’t watching, but his eyes were still on the road as we continued to break the speed limit, the ride much smoother now he felt he’d scared me enough with his erratic driving.

Content, I turned my attention back to window next to me, resuming my absent stare, typing out a message to my husband out of the corner of my eye – glad that I’d sent so many messages from my phone that I could basically type a whole paragraph with my eyes shut.

It wasn’t much when I had finished, but at least it was something – maybe at least someone would find my body after all of this, I thought in mocking cheer. At least it conveyed my situation as well I could for now. I hit the send button and returned my entire concentration back onto the streets outside where the usual rainy weather of the city had once again begun, large drops of water spotting the almost-dry pavement.

Suddenly the Joker let out a low growl of annoyance and I turned my attention back to him as he rolled his neck, his jaw clenched. I could feel my heart already pounding, he suddenly looked dangerous, completely different from the joking man he’d been a moment ago.

Suddenly he violently swung the car off the road and I grabbed at my seat to avoiding being thrown around again. The car jerked as we mounted the pavement and I tried to make out where we were going but all I could see was the side of a building rushing towards us. I braced for the impact I knew I couldn’t survive, hiding my face this time. When I didn’t feel anything, I snapped my head back up only to see the rest of the road disappearing behind us as the tires screeched in protest and we cornered sharply into an alleyway.

Once the car was safely concealed between the two protective brick walls the Joker snapped the clutch in place and was out the door before I could register we had even stopped.

My mind quickly caught onto what was happening as Joker made his way round to the door closest to me. I snapped my seatbelt off and shuffled across the back seat, positioning myself as best I could. As soon as I heard the lock mechanism click I kicked out as hard as I could against the door. I felt it connect with the Joker and cause him to stumble backwards slightly. I made the most of the small moment I had and scrambled out of the car, immediately making an attempt to run out of the alley and back onto the main street where there was a slim chance I might find help or at least shelter.

I didn’t make it more than a few strides however, before I felt a hand catch hold of the back of my jacket, fingers entangling in my long hair that fanned out behind in the wind. He yanked me easily backwards, my feet slipping on the wet pavement underfoot, and shoved me backwards till I was pinned up against one of the walls of the alley by his body, on of this hands at my throat.

I struggled against his hold but I soon had to concede that he was too strong for me to do anything but tire myself out and the more I struggled the tighter his grip on my throat got, making it hard to breathe.

“You didn’t want to be my friend, doll, hmm?” He asked, his voice gravelly and his breathing harsh through his open mouth, “Or did you, hmm? But your morals are just too strong?” He grinned manically down at me, his eyes alight with understanding and I felt like he already knew me better than I did.

“Do what you want!” I snarled at him, “Now people know what’s happened to me and you can’t change that!”

His grip on my throat tightened even more and I squirmed again rubbing my back raw on the rough brick behind me as I tried in in vain to free my arms from where they were pinned under his body.

“Oh, I don’t want to change that, kitten.” He told with a slight airy chuckle as though I was a fool. “People need to know you’re gone, doll…” He breathed down at me, “…for the plan to work.” He grinned, his metal teeth clear and evident against his red lips inches from my face.

“You should know, doll – it is your plan after all.” He said, dipping his head to look up at me through his eye lashes, his invisible eyebrows raised - as though he was shocked I hadn’t caught on yet.

That’s when it clicked with me – he was kidnapping me to complete the plan I had suggested to him the night before. Shit. Why did I say anything to him yesterday? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Everyone planned the little criminal things they’d do if they could – why had I shared mine? What was it about the man in front of me that made so reckless and giddy?

“Now, all I need for you to do is breathe….” The Joker growled at me lowly, bringing a rag up to my face in his free hand. I tried one last ditch attempt to get away but I knew it was hopeless before I had even started and, when the cloth finally enveloped my mouth and nose, I resigned myself to my fate and inhaled deeply, drowsiness soon overcoming me.

 tags: @carouselcurls @aqswdefrgthzjukilop @toxic-ink @6fish6 @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @blondieinthecity @cybergingersalad @viraldragonrider 

(Again - let me know if you don't want to be tagged in this series - I just used my Deadly Voice tags because I figure its a similar genre!)

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Where Have You Been?!” - Requested Oneshot

“Where Have You Been?!” - Requested Oneshot 

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Jerome Valeska x Reader

Word Count: 1,500-ish

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Talk of Violence, kind of NSFW at the end(?)

Summary:

Author’s Note: This is my first Jerome x Reader piece! Exciting and nerve-wracking! I wrote it kind of late at night, so I apologize for problems

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces (All Works, Specific Fandoms, or Specific Multi-Parts), please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Ever since Barbara Kean introduced you to Jerome Valeska while you were in Arkham, he fell head over heels for you and you couldn’t help your desire to be with him. You two were soon known as a couple and known not to be dealt with. Which is why you were included in their escape from Arkham thanks to Theo Galavant.

That was a month or so ago. Now you lived with the rest of the Maniax and Theo Galavant. He knew how close you are Jerome were, so he gave you two a bigger room so the two of you could have some shared space. Being in such living conditions, you knew almost everything that went on. You knew everyone’s plans and ideas. That is, until Jerome disappeared.

Jerome hadn’t acted out of the ordinary or said anything that raised any more red flags than usual the night before. So you didn’t understand why you woke up to an empty bed and no Jerome in sight. You got up and checked everywhere you could think of, and he was nowhere  to be found.

You asked everyone if they knew where he went, but no one had an answer. Then you decided to go to the big man himself. Knocking on his office door, you waited until Theo called for you to come in.

You were probably the most polite out of everyone. You weren’t as insane as the rest of the Maniax. Respect, common sense, and knowing where you fit on the food chain were major life lessons you had learned growing up. So you knew not to push any of Theo’s buttons, no matter what.He saw your respect and gave you the same in return. He was much nicer to you and ended up being more lenient with you, making sure you were okay.

You walked into his office and saw him sitting at his desk, going over some papers while Tabitha sat in a big comfy chair cleaning a gun. You waited sort of by the door for him to acknowledge you and allow you closer.

“Ah, (Y/N). I figured I would be hearing from you at some point today. Come in, take a seat. How are you?” You walked over to one of the chairs that was sort of in front of his desk and couldn’t help but keep playing with your fingers.

“I’m actually not that great. I woke up and Jerome was gone. No one knows where he is or when he will be back. I have been wracking my brain trying to think of possibilities, but then I thought I would ask you.” You honestly were scared. You didn’t like not knowing.

Theo stood up and walked around to the other side of his desk. He sighed and looked at you before speaking.

“Yes, I know where Jerome went. But here is the part that you are not going to like: I cannot tell you where he went.” Theo was watching for your reaction. You tried your best to just breathe and think things through. You trusted Theo, so he had to have some reason for not telling you.

“I just… Can you tell me when he will be getting back from whatever he had to go do?” You couldn’t help the small bit of fear in your voice.

“I’m not sure how long he will be. It could be as quick as tonight or it could be a week or more.” Theo had taken one of your hands in his in an attempt to calm you down. But you couldn’t help but be more scared after Tabitha spoke.

“That is if he survives…” She said cooly.

Tabitha liked you. You were like a sister to her and Barbara. But she didn’t like Jerome. She thought he was cocky, arrogant, and annoying. So it was understandable why she would say something like that, but it didn’t make it sting any less.

“Tabitha, would you please go see if Barbara needs you or something?” Theo sent her off. She shot you a sort of apologetic look before closing the door behind her. “Alright, (Y/N). I can’t promise that Jerome will come back soon, but I have high hopes that he will be back.”

You just sat there and looked at the floor. Theo stood up and gave you a glass of whiskey, which you gratefully downed. He smiled at you and patted your hand.

“Now, why don’t you go and relax today? I don’t believe you will be needed for anything this afternoon. We don’t have any big plans for awhile. Or if you want to work on your fighting, Tabitha will gladly train with you.”

“Thank you, Theo. I think I’ll just go and be alone for a bit.” He just nodded before responding.

“Very well. I will have Barbara or Tabby check on you every so often. I don’t need another one of us to lose their minds completely. Especially not you. ” He smiled.

You spent the rest of the day laying around and trying to distract yourself. When you finally felt yourself getting tired enough to fall asleep, you took his pillow and inhaled his familiar and calming scent.

“You better be alive and get back to me in one piece, you fucker.”

~~~~~~~~

It has been a week since Jerome left without telling you. You checked in with Theo every day to see if he would budge and tell you any information, but he never told.

You slowly woke up this morning, feeling even shittier than usual. Somehow you got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make some scrambled eggs for yourself. You heard the usual mashup of voices. Barbara, Greenwood, Tabitha, and a couple of others. But then you heard a laugh that made you almost sprint to the kitchen. It was his laugh.

When you finally got to the kitchen, you saw your favorite ginger cooking something on the stovetop. You honestly couldn’t believe it. He came back and acted like nothing was wrong.

“Jerome?” Your voice wavered as tears started to sting your eyes. He turned around and smiled his big smile.

“Hey there, dollface! I got some eggs for you.” You walked up and poked at his face. He just let you while he let out a few soft laughs. You were confused.

“Can I uh… Can we talk in private please?” He took your hand and made a face to everyone else like ‘ooooh private’ but that is not what you intended right now.

You both went into the hallway, far enough from everyone else. You were angry. You hated not knowing things and the fact that this was Jerome’s life that you didn’t know about, it made you even more frustrated. He tried to kiss you but you took a step back. Before he could get any words out, you slapped him and spoke up.

“What the actual fuck, J?!”

“What? You don’t like my kisses anymore or something?”

“Where the fuck have you been?! You just leave and tell no one anything or when you are coming back? Do you know how worried I’ve been this past week?!” He took a second to respond, seeing you so seriously hurt threw him off.

“I had to deal with someone. Theo wanted me to do it alone to prove I was on a different level than the pions like Greenwood.” He honestly didn’t expect you to be so scared about him. He felt a little bit of guilt. He put his hands on your waist and looked into your eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t think it would hit you this bad. But hey, I’m here now. And in one piece this time!”

You couldn’t stay mad at him. One of your hands went up to his cheek and you couldn’t help but let him lean in and kiss you. God you missed his kisses. You didn’t let things get too heated though. After a few seconds of kissing, you pulled back and stuck a scolding finger in his face.

“Jerome Valeska, I swear if you try to pull anything like this again, I will come find you and kill you myself.” You tried your hardest to sound serious and strict. Jerome smiled in response.

“Come on, babe. We both know you wouldn’t be able to kill me. What would you do without me?” You thought for a second before answering.

“I’d go crazy without you. So to keep us both alive and well, take me with you next time.” He smiled even bigger and kissed you again.

“To see you be my badass babygirl that looks so sweet but can kill with ease? I’ll try my hardest to get you to run with me.”

You both laughed and kissed a bit more. Jerome started to make the kisses a bit rougher and needier. He moved his kisses to your neck and earned a few struggled breaths from you. Before it could get too heated, Barbara’s voice rang out.

“Hey, lovebirds! Eat your breakfast and then you two can make up without us all nearby!”

Jerome sort of growled in annoyance, causing you to laugh a bit. He quickly kissed your lips once more before going back to you neck for a bit. You pulled him off you neck and slowly let your hand drift down his shoulder to his chest to a growing bulge in his pants. 

“We will continue this later. You gotta make this past week of loneliness up to me.” Then you quickly took your hands away from him and sort of sauntered back to the kitchen. 

Jerome couldn’t help but watch you and think to himself. 

“Goddamn I am crazier than normal for my dollface.”

Tags: @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @luciebell-writes @welcome-to-cobblepothell @gothamimagines@theeactress @aya-fay